


Two wrongs make a right

by somagni



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Dirty Talk, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Boats and Ships, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, Cock Warming, Crying, Dancing, Dildos, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Monster of the Week, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Rimming, Scenting, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex Toys, Sickfic, Slow Build, Spanking, Stress Relief, Threesome - F/M/M, Trial Of The Grasses (The Witcher), Vaginal Sex, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), panromantic eskel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 93,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somagni/pseuds/somagni
Summary: Lambert hates that he's a witcher, hates that he's an omega, hates it even more dying right at the base of the trail. Someone who wants nothing to do with omegas finds him. It feels a bit better to be angry at the world when you're not the only freak in the room.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Lambert (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 28





	1. Close but no horse

He had gotten so close, the killer was right there, if he he could make it up the trail he'd be safe, he'd be home. Fuck if he wasn't always so close but not quite close enough. He was broken and bleeding and one of his brothers would find him come the thaw. He fell from his horse, feeling the blood in his lungs bubble and pop. _'So close.'_ He kept his eyes open because fuck death, she'd have to kill him twice, he was stubborn like that. ' _Close.'_ What a cruel word, what a cruel state of existence. He was close to as strong as Geralt, he could throw a mean punch, scrap with the best of them, but he was never the best. He was almost as smart as Eskel, well he was clever, could think to the spot, he had bright moments of genius but he was never the brightest. ' _My fault.'_ Well mostly his fault, he let himself get cocky, fought all those witch hunters alone, told other non humans with two hands and a blade to help keep women and children safe but part of it wasn't his fault. What he was, that wasn't his fault.

 _'Hope it's a wolf.'_ He felt hands around him, tugging rough like a wolf would, but what if it wasn't? They'd burry him in a ditch, throw him in some lake, feed him to dogs. What would they curse him for being? What was worse? Oh his father was none too pleased to be saddled with an omega son, one that didn't play well with . . . Anyone. That's what omegas were good for, being gentle and giving and kind and while he had moments of that, he was loud and proud and territorial, even before. It was as if his brain hadn't gotten the message of exactly what he was born for. Then the gods cursed the boy a second time, gave him from one abusive hand to another. Couldn't be soft couldn't be subservient, maybe the witchers could beat it out of him, bleed and bend him into something more whole. They couldn't. He was ever more a square peg in a round hole, all pointed edges trying to force himself through. There were other omega witchers, that thrived and it's not as if up at till this very moment being an omega witcher had been a death sentence but he never . . . Fit. Not entirely, home did settle into being _his_ home, the path eventually became _his_ path, but he was always just so . . . Angry he could never stop being angry. If he did people saw him as weak, or even worse, wanted to protect him, have him and he was a man damnit he didn't want to rely on others, because others just hurt and then left. So he staid angry and unapproachable, until finally there was no one dense enough to approach, not long after that there weren't many alive left to even linger round the edges. His brothers had, to their credit they worked fucking hard for it, punched and clawed right at his firey temper, got burned over and over till maybe they grew numb to the scortch, could tolerate the flames, they got close. _'Sorry.'_ That was his fault, they would mourn him and that wouldn't have to be something they went through if he hadn't let them get close. No one should morn a mistake.

He woke up in a fright, more pressing than that in a fuck ton of pain. Most alarming was his state of dress or lack there of, he had his smalls on which was good but he'd feel better clothed, he'd feel best under armor and jackets, trousers with cups and pads where they should be. "Where the fuck are my swords?!"  
"By the door! Grab them before you leave, they take up too much space. Why do you need _two_ swords?" It was a woman's voice which was alarming because if he wasn't already woefully aware, his half concused mind could nolonger hold onto the glimmer of hope one of the wolves had found him and brought him home.  
"If you brought me back to life to claim me you're better off killing me . . . Or letting me-"  
"Stop being so melodramatic. I don't want to claim you. I don't want to fuck you. I don't wish to touch you. Stay as long as you need but follow one rule. Do not touch me! We clear?"  
"I . . ." Well that was fucking weird. He sniffed at the air again. _'She is an alpha.'_ Once more for good measure. _'No omega has been here for . . . Months.'_ She should be kicking down the door, demanding everything she felt owed, his scent, his sex, his self but she sounded far, all the way across this . . . When did someone build a house in the blue mountains? Why the fuck would anyone in their right mind do that?  
"That wasn't a rhetorical question." She was loud though, no difficulty hearing her from across the space.  
"I'm leaving." Fuck if everything didn't pinch and poke. Why did his bones hate him? He stood, he shuffled with pain and didn't so much walk as waited till inertia and a whole fucking wall caused him to stop moving. "Ow." He spoke straight into stone. He heard footsteps coming. _'Oh she's a nurturing alpha isn't she? Likes picking up strays.'_ He started to snarl as he pushed himself up straight. That's why she wasn't trying to jump his bones, she'd want to hold him and talk about how things made him feel. He felt angry, he always felt angry.  
"Try not to . . . Bleed everywhere? Blood belongs on the inside." He heard something ceramic hit the stone on the other side of the door and then the footsteps were leaving. "You'll get your smell everywhere then I'll have to clean . . . Not that you have much else going on Malo, something to do."  
_'Malo? Is she . . . Talking to herself? She's nutty. I mean most women who live in alone in shacks are.'_ He was confused and his head hurt, he didn't want to think about her, nor the fact that there was no fucking way he was making it much of anywhere. Instead he let his nose settle on . . . Chicken? Cooked chicken, and some bitter greens. He'd prefer red meet and Vesemir could only guilt him into eating vegetables four times over winter but- _'Food. I'm fucking starving.'_ He fell in the direction of the door. With some messy wiggling and shifting of weight he opened the door a crack, pulled in the plate and slammed it shut. He sat on the floor and looked down at the meal. _'She didn't cut it into little bites or offer to feed it to me.'_ He held the plate up to his nose and sniffed for something out of place. "Thanks." Not for the food, just for not insulting his intelligence with the offer. She didn't answer, or maybe she did and he couldn't hear her over his jaw ripping and tearing.

He got back to the bed, eventually, he didn't put the plate back outside of the door which maybe he'd regret that later but sleep sounded good right now. "Don't piss in the plants. There's a chamber pot, door on your left . . . Get there." She didn't offer to guide him, carry him there or bring it to him. He was torn between spitefuly willing a piss in one of the near by potted plants or saying thank you again, he was too tired for either.

"My horse ok?"  
"Didn't find a horse by you." Where the hell was she? The fucking roof? "I'll look in the morning."  
"Don't fucking bother." He'd find his own fucking horse, he'd be gone by morning.  
"Ok."  
"Why'd . . . What do you hope to get out of this?" Was she holding him for ransom? Seemed a bit of a stretch but he was running out of plausible explanations. He sure as fuck hoped that wasn't the reason, it was winter even if his brothers wanted to they couldn't scrap together decent coin to pay for him. His pride couldn't see his safety being sold for less than what you'd buy dog tallow.  
"Ignored by the witchers. If you died within eyesight of my home when they came looking for you they'd blame me. Kill me, touch me." She said the later as if it was worse than the former which was fucking weird but everything about this disembodied voice was fucking weird. Her reason made sense though, self preservation, he could respect that.

 _'Probably ain't looking for me. Just figured I didn't make it this season.'_ He rolled himself within the blankets on the bed, found himself stretching and squirming over every inch of them.  
"I'll be out of your hair soon." He promised and let his head bury and blend within the pillows, let himself sleep.

He was not out of her hair by morning, his mind was in winter mode, he slept in, long, would have been longer but he heard footsteps and in a motion he immediately regretted sprang to a seated position. "Fuck."  
"Your horse . . . Found it . . . Dead." Her sentence sounded awkward rushed. "Ghouls."  
"Fuck." It had been a decent horse, only bit him when he really deserved it which was all he could ask out of a mount.  
"I . . . Sorry." He waited for her to offer to soothe or scent him, he was sure even under all that anger and the pain lingering from being half dead she could smell . . . A distressed omega, not sadness but a measure of loss. "Did it have a name?"  
"Huh?"  
"Your horse." No offer of compassion just a question.  
"Straskoulix"  
"That's . . . A lot." She almost sounded amused but equally afraid to be so.  
_'She's scared of me.'_ He sniffed the air, alpha she may be but she was human and humans even batty ones that lived in the woods were afraid of witchers.  
"Didn't name him. Called him Stras."  
"Oh. That's easier." Less fear more . . . Was there a smile in her voice?  
"Easier?"  
"For the marker. Scratching out all those letters would've been a pain."  
"Making a marker for him?" That was awful nice, far as humans go. Most wouldn't even leave a marker for a witcher let alone their horse. "Lambert." If he ended up croaking maybe she'd scratch out a marker for him. That'd be . . . He never thought he'd have that.  
"It had a surname?" Fear had fallen for the most part, still amused and a bit . . . Overwhelmed?  
"My name . . . It's Lambert."  
"Ah." He could almost hear her eyes widen at the little bit of knowledge he'd shared.  
"Malo . . . That's my name." And the fear was back.  
"I know. Heard you muttering to yourself."  
"Right. Well Lambert-" A clink of ceramic on stone again. "Breakfast if you want it." Footsteps were leaving again. He fell to the door faster this time, opening it he caught a quick glimpse, the voice had a body and the body was . . . Too thin, too disheveled, too swallowed in layers of clothes.  
_'She must freeze come deep winter.'_ He didn’t think much more on that, only sniffing with a few disdainful breaths before eating.

His body was rebuilding but fuck if that didn't leave him heavy, tired. ' _One more nap then . . .'_ Well leaving at noon was dumb especially on foot. "You got a horse?"  
"Delcot." She answered eventually. There was another sound, something odd, something he never heard before sounded like . . . Bagged rain.  
"What is that?"  
"Temerian." She answered the wrong question.  
"No that sound."  
"Supposed to be-" she paused and the sound of bagged rain hit some far off floor. "A stress ball. Supposed to squeeze it."  
"But you're not?"  
"Stressed all over not just my fist." The sound of bagged rain started up again. He felt compelled to ask what a hermit has to be stressed about but then he asked himself why he cared and went with a different sentence all together.  
"Need to borrow your horse to get up the mountain." He barked, because he was an asshole, because he was angry.  
"No."  
"No?"  
"How would I get him back?"  
"I'd . . . Bring it back?"  
"Only to walk back up the mountain?"  
"Bring it back at the end of winter?"  
"I'm not lending a stranger my horse for four months." That was a fair statement.  
"Fine." Meant he was stuck here a few days longer, he couldn't walk up the mountain in his current state. "They _are_ looking for me." He blurted.  
"What?"  
"The . . . Other witchers." He had a worry his welcome was growing long and she'd kick him out once she figured he could die on her door step and no one would bat an eye.  
"I'm sure they are." She sounded a bit sad with those words. "I'm going to . . . I'll bring you dinner in a while." Bagged rain stopped, there were footsteps, a door opened and closed.  
"Fuck." He didn't want her sad. He didn't care if she was happy but she had been . . . Nice. He didn't want her to realize he was a belligerent asshole and kick him out, he needed her to tolerate him for a few more days. If he slept he couldn't speak, he wouldn't be a dick in his sleep. That was a solid plan. He closed his eyes, again rubbing his face deep into the sea of pillows that smelled mostly of feathers and laundry powders but there was something that wasn't just fabric and fowl, another scent. ' _Mint.'_ He chewed mint every now and again, something to keep his jaw working, especially when food was sparse. That was the logical reason for him pressing a few bites into the pillowcase. Made perfect sense.

He dreamed which he really should have taken the time to soak in he was able to do so, he was in a safe space, his brain would allow it, what a treat but that's not how dreaming worked. Contemplative thought had no place in the clouds. In the dream he was home, he had made it up that fucking trail and made it to his room. He was sweating, he had built some overdone fire in his hearth and it was boiling hot. He had wanted it too hot though. Why? He just did he just was in the moment. He had built his nest. He had been looking forward to building a proper nest all fucking fall and this dream nest was perfect. It was the best he had done, he had spent time, put pride into it. There was no sagging corners yet still everything was soft and comforting and everything smelled of mint which was new. It was also wider than last year, and last year had been made wider for Geralt's omega that had no concept of personal space but did respect boundaries, or atleast feared getting stabbed enough to not go past cuddling. If he was honest Jaskier was a decent if not a bit dramatic of a cuddler, made a fucking show out of it, when it was just holding cause holding felt nice. So wider still meant what? Did Lambert lose a bet? Had Jaskier gotten him drunk and convinced him to let he and Geralt rut up his perfect nest? No . . . He was . . . Trying to convince more mint to come in his nest.

Again he woke up in a fright, again he shot up to a seated position and again his stitches hated him for it. "Fuck." He was angry, furious, he stood, let rage supersed pain, give balance to his spine. He still had an awkward gate but it didn't stop him from storming out the door. "The fuck are you trying to do?" He found her in a den, reeking of mint like she owned the place which Lambert refused to acknowledge, she did.  
"What?" Mint folded under fear. Fear of being caught. Had to be, it couldn't be that he, a guest in her, a woman who helped him when she didn't have to, house had come stomping at her with blood lust written in his glare.  
"You trying to catch me?"  
"What? No. I couldn't have been more clear. I don't want to touch you, don't want you to touch me. Lam-"  
"I'm fucking sterile you know that?" He wanted her to dial back her scent and he wanted her to do it decades ago.  
"I . . . Lucky you? Please go back to your room." Her eyes were event minty some soft almost moss green.  
"I don't know what-"  
"Please?" Those minty eyes were scared, of him, that he'd hurt her, that he'd touch her, he could see her shrink smaller, into her chair. Then those eyes were gone, shut, clenched, bracing for something awful.  
"I won't . . . Touch you." Her heart stopped beating it's way out of her chest and that made Lambert calmer. "I'm building a fucking nest." He needed to calm down, she hadn't been trying to insnare him, it wasn’t a trap, he was awake and he was an asshole.  
"OK." She didn't seem to care what he did so long as she didn't have to feel his skin against hers.  
"You can't come in." He knew he sounded like a child, but she was making him feel like a child, an angry, confused, lost child and he knew what that felt like, knew that always preceeded pain and he wanted that feeling gone.  
"I DON'T WANT TO! I'M A WEIRD FUCKING FREAK I GET IT BUT LET THAT BE A SOLICE TO YOU! I HAVE NO INTREST IN OMEGAS! NO MORE! NEVER AGAIN! GO TO YOUR ROOM OR GET OUT!" On a human omega maybe her shout would have sent them scurrying, bowed head, brains scrambled, he was a witcher though, to him it was just . . . Loud. It hurt his sensitive ears because she was so fucking loud.  
"Fine." He cleaned out an ear with a pinky and stared at his swords still waiting for him, asking him when he was going home. He sneered down at a hip that was still creaking and straining under his weight, he hobbled back to his room. Ripping every piece of linen from the bed. Fuck he tore down curtains and put together the worst nest he'd ever made. It was a small miracle it didn't collapse onto him when he slunk inside.

Hours passed in silence, outside of Lambert writhing to find some comfort, forcing the scent of mint out of his face in angry breaths. More hours passed till he heard footsteps, ceramic on stone. "I'm running out of plates." She sounded, tired, like yelling at him had taken something out of her.  
"Don't . . . My leg still needs a day or two more." He had calmed down some. He thought this was her polite way of telling him he had to go.  
"What does that have to do with my plates?" She let out a confused sigh.  
"I'm _sorry_ alright?" It came out more of a hiss than he wanted but he was an asshole even in a good mood and he wasn't in a good mood.  
"Did you break my plates?" It was an exhausted chuckle.  
"What? No." He crawled out of his nest and really thought on her words as the literal statements they were, not some guised metaphor. Two bowls, three plates, spoons and forks, a knife or two. _'She lives alone, probably all her shit.'_ He stacked them, careful not to make her question about broken vessels a self fulfilling prophecy. He opened the door and blinked at her for a few moments. _'Don't be an asshole.'_ He saw her hands reach out carefully to take them from him. "If I . . . Do the dishes does that count?" He pulled them out of her grasp.  
"Count for what?"  
"An apology."  
"You said sorry. It's . . . Fine."  
"I was an asshole." He could admit to his largest most glaring fault.  
"Yeah you were. I don't . . . Like people getting as close as you did." She sounded uncomfortable and Lambert found himself caring, because _he_ made her uncomfortable, in her own fucking home and she still hadn't kicked him out.  
"I don't like . . . It's weird that you don't want something from me. What do you want?" He felt constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
"You to . . . Do the dishes? Or give them back? I won't litteraly have you eat me out of house and home." She smiled something small and awkward but it was a patient smile. She had patience for him.  
"I said I fucking would." He saw her smile grow, his prickliness was reassuring. It meant he wouldn't touch her and that made her calm. He smiled back. "Well?"  
"Huh?"  
"Where's your fucking kitchen?" She found just the right half dead witcher, he could keep her at arms length for ages.  
"It's a house not a palace I'm sure you can find it on your own." She could be an asshole too which made him feel . . . Better. "Oh." It was the first time since he started squatting in her home that she saw the state of the room. "You . . . Destroyed it." She didn't sound angry, just a passing acknowledgement that Lambert was a tornado with limbs.  
"I make better nests." He didn't care what her opinion was on the nest itself, it wasn't for her, he had made that abunently clear, but he was a witcher he couldn't have her thinking he lack form or skill, he was sloppy but he could complete a task.  
"For your sake I hope so, maybe that's why you're so grouchy. Need a nice nest to I don't know . . . Do whatever." They were walking to the kitchen together. Lambert was smiling again. She didn't patronize him, saying it was a fine nest, it was good because he made it. That was a shit nest and they both knew it.  
"Not enough blankets." He shrugged, when he got home, he'd make that nest in his dreams.  
"Oh." Malo stopped, she was thinking. "If it means you'll be less likely to bite my head off you can some of my blankets."  
"No." He found a basin of water by a table and he fought the urge to just drop everything in his hands shake them a bit and call it a day. He sat on the floor and placed one plate in, scrubbing it with his sleeve.  
"No? Is there nothing that will save me from your ire?" She handed him a dish rag.  
"You need your blankets, skinny thing. Must . . . Where the fuck are you sleeping?" He looked over his shoulder, she was starting to chop vegetables, too many vegetables, what person ate _that_ many carrots?  
"Love seat in the den."  
"Not a bed?"  
"House not a palace. One bed. You needed it more than I did."  
"Fuck." It was on the tip of his tongue offering her room back, but he was an asshole. "I'll be gone soon." He promised.  
"Yeah. I know." She sounded sad again. Would she miss him? How? Why?  
_'She's batty.'_ He reminded himself. Malo made dinner and Lambert made those dishes shine.

"Ta Da." She had two plates, one with more meat and one with more vegetables.  
"That on purpose?" He looked up at her confused, taking the plate with mercifully less carrots and was unsure why that made her smile.  
"What? Dinner? Yes I'm a terrible cook. It takes all my purpose just to boil water." She found her way to then den and seemed shocked and maybe a little scared when he joined her, but he took a page out of Jaskier's book and was dramatic in the way he sat in the farthest corner from her. She laughed, he was teasing her and she took it on the chin like a champ, which meant he was allowed to laugh and he did.  
"You give me more protein cause I need it or cause you love salad with a side of chicken?"  
"Can I get points for both?"  
"Cooking the books." He teased again and they laughed again. The food was fresh from the stove, that's why he felt warm. That made perfect sense. They actually shared room for the first time and it wasn’t awful. The call home was still there but it was burried under laughter, under warmth under mint.

More hours passed and then she yawned. "Alright Marshmalo time for bed." He stood and gods everything still fucking hurt but maybe just a bit less than the day prior. Another solid sleep and he could be out of her hair like he promised.  
"What did you call me?" This was a tone his dulled emotions couldn't decipher somewhere split between amused and gutted. That made no sense.  
"I er . . . You know like those goopy Althaea leaves healers give kids if they shut the fuck up and stop crying? Your name . . . Kinda sounds like that." He was trying not to be an asshole and that had been a mistake.  
"I know what they are you . . . Should just call me by my name."  
"Sure." She didn't want a lover, didn't want friend, she was tolerating him and he needed to stop getting so comfortable. "Goodnight Malo." Maybe he tore something when standing, pulled something, that made sense, that's why the ache came back.  
"Goodnight Lambert."


	2. Too close for comfort

He couldn't get comfortable in this shit nest so the sound of her shout didn’t wake him but there was no way he was getting back to sleep with her shrieking like that. That's why he got out of his cocoon of covers and shambled to the den. "The fuck Malo? Trying to sleep." He was wiping his eyes as the pupils slotted wide to take in the room.  
"I'm sorry. Sorry for all of it. Sorry for all of us. I'm sorry!" She looked a bit like a water hag all her black hair draped crazily over her face.  
 _'Crying. She's crying.'_ He didn’t want to be an asshole here. She had done so much for him that's where the compulsion to make the tears stop came from.  
"Please stop! Please let me . . . I know . . . Please let me stop!"  
"Malo?!" He didn't follow the one fucking rule, the only thing she seemed to care about, he grabbed her arms. He did what made sense, what at some point would've felt natural to him. He burried her face against his neck. _'Right?'_ He knew his scent was sharp and citrusy, acidic, it was angry, he was always angry but it was all he had. The scent of an omega should make an alpha feel better, even if he was a shit omega it had to count for something.   
"Please . . . Good . . . Can still hurt." She was still crying but it was softer, she was slipping from nightmare into a deeper visionless sleep.  
 _'Better.'_ She wasn't happy, wasn't calm but she wasn't wailing. She still looked too much like a monster, that's why he pushed her hair behind her ears. He was fucking tired that's why he slept on the floor instead of heading back to the room. All these choices made sense, he was the lazy asshole, he was selfish, all these choices made his life easier.

"Did you touch me?!" That shout did wake him. He sat up and his head hit the love seat as he sprung up.  
"Fuck."  
"Did you?!" She was angry and scared and gods her smell burned, he needed it to stop, all of this was giving him a headache.  
"Yes. Stop fucking yelling!" He was a lot of things a lot of undesirable, crude and crass things but he wasn't a liar.  
"I had one rule! One fucking rule Lambert! Don't touch me. Get out! Get the fuck out!" He wasn't fully healed, he needed just a little while longer, that's why he defended himself.  
"You were . . . Having a nightmare. I didn't do anything vulgar, just . . . You needed to calm down."  
"I don't want to calm down. Calm is . . ."  
"Is what?" He was genuinely curious, he had no other explanation for that. He was never calm, always angry.  
"Get out Lambert." She wasn't shouting any longer, her eyes dropped, she was making demands like she had won but looked full of defeat.  
"I . . . Won't touch you again." He stopped shouting because she stopped shouting. "I will leave tomorrow I swear."  
"I believed you once and that was stupid. Leave."  
"You're not . . . Stupid." He didn't want her to litteraly kick him out so he went to the room to gather his things. "Want me to . . . Clean it?" Door opened he geastured to how at home he had made himself.  
"No." She sounded unsure and he was an asshole, so he pressed.

He had his pack over his shoulder and was staring at his swords that were asking to go home. "Is it because I'm a witcher?"  
"Blue mountains belongs to the wolves even idiots know that. I didn't move here with a hatred for witchers in my head."  
"Stop calling yourself an idiot." He was growling because he was angry, he was always angry. "You're not."  
"Go." She was wilting, he could get another hot meal if he pressed, so he did.  
"Is it . . . Because I'm a man?" He didn't bother himself with learning all the rules and courting rituals of alphas and omegas, he'd never needed to but he did have eyes, he had lived a while, knew things. Alpha females tended to have a preference, tended to like pretty little waify female omegas, and were keen to keep space between them and their's and anything that pissed standing up. There were plenty of exceptions, variations and varieties, hell his best romps had been with some very male friendly alpha females who enjoyed filling and being filled but maybe Malo wasn't an exception.  
"It's because I don't like being touched anymore. I came all the way out here so no one would touch me, make me touch them. Omegas aren't always-"  
"Always what?" He was an omega he wanted to hear what he wasn't always, he had a habit of breaking molds in the worst way.  
"Docile, delicate . . . They can hurt."  
"You're not wrong." He wasn't docile, delicate, his job generally was bringing pain if not death. "I wouldn't hurt you." He hadn't meant to say that. " _Who_ hurt you? If you lend me your horse I'll kill them?" He needed a horse, he did jobs for supplies all the time, this made sense. He was still growling because he was still angry. _'Fucking furious. What a shitty start to a day.'_  
"Stop asking so many questions. Promise to keep to the room and you can stay. Just stop with all the empty promises, all the questions. Go back to being a jerk." She sounded like she might cry. He was still an asshole though.  
" _One_ question?"  
"Lambert." She was done wilting, she was warning him her patience was not endless.  
"I want to see the bagged rain." He was still curious about that.  
"Bagged . . . Rain?" What the fuck did she call it?  
"Stress ball? You could probably use it." He teased and somehow she mustered a chuckle. Then she disappeared, for a while, longer than it should have taken.

"Malo?" He had just gotten out of the dog house and barging in a woman in the lavatory wasn't wise . . . Ever. "You . . . Hurry it up." He wasn't worried he was impatient.  
"Keep your shirt on." She snapped back and Lambert smiled, he felt she tolerated him most when there were teases.  
"Surprised you didn't add it to your collection." She had been constantly wearing no less than four layers of tunics at any given time.  
"Ha. Ha." She finally reappeared and she had what looked like a jugglers ball in her palm but that had lost his interest.  
"You . . . Smell different." Mint was still there but soft under some herbs that smelled of nothing more than wet leaves.  
"Suppressants. Maybe it will calm both of us down." He knew they made suppressants for omegas, hell he'd be pickled in the stuff if it didn't distract his nose, didn't fog his brain, he'd rather be an uncomfortable omega yet a half decent witcher then a dead version of both. Alpha surpressants, seemed to be so counter intuitive, alphas were strong, dominant, they were top of the food chain, why would you want to curb that?  
"It . . . Feel ok?" What side effects were there? He wasn't a fan of vomit, he wanted fair warning if she was going to puke on his boots.  
"Not . . . Good but-"  
"Good can still hurt." He was a decent listener, sometimes.  
"Like a head cold." She wasn't going to vomit, so he didn't press. "Bagged rain." She tossed the ball into the air, bouncing on the back of her wrist, then to her elbow, it traveled to a knee then to the inside of her ankle. He was smiling because that looked like a decent waste of energy, not because she was smiling.  
"Can I try?"  
"Oh too ill to make it up a mountain but spry enough to play? You might pull a stitch."  
"Arms aren't fucked." She was trying to make sure he wasn't freeloading, she didn't care about his well being.  
"Ok. Try but no legs Lambert." She kicked it over to him and he caught it, with too much force, it burst in his fingers, sand spilling out onto the floor.  
"Fuck." No wonder she thought if he was allowed to touch he'd hurt her, break her. He was not gentle like omegas should be, he was rough, inside and out. She was laughing and he looked at her frustrated and confused. Was she laughing _at_ him?  
"You must be really stressed Lambert." She was teasing and not shouting so he assumed she was in a good mood, he wanted to keep that. "From the state I found you I figure witcher . . .ing is stressful work."  
"I'll . . . Fuck I'll fix it." He jammed the fabric casing in his pocket. Picking up these fucking grains of sand off the floor . . . If he wasn't stressed before, he was now.  
"Can't find em all Lambert it's ok. I'll-"  
"Fuck says I can't?" He had the eyes for it, nothing escaped them not one God damn grain.  
"As thrilling as watching you have a coniption seems, I'm going to. . . Make lunch I guess."  
 _'That all she does? Cook? She doesn't even like it.'_ He grumbled as his calloused fingers fought to pick up an especially stubborn patch of sand. _'She did play with this till you broke it you fucking moron.'_ Though even with her bagged rain, that still seemed dull as dirt. Lonely, if he thought about it, he didn't though because this fucking sand would not budge.

"I was thinking Lambert." He didn't care if his self satisfied shit eating grin was the wrong side of cocky but she said he couldn't but he had and he was allowed to be proud as shit.  
"Told ya." He held up palms filled with victory.  
"You sure did. Now do you know how to sew?"  
"Sure. Patch shit up all the time." Did she think him incompetent? He _had_ just been bumming around her home for close to a week. "I can do plenty of shit you think I can't." He wanted her to try and stump him. He'd show her.  
"Can you shut up and eat lunch. I'm trying to say something that should please you."  
 _'That I'm not like other omegas? I can stay.'_ That was a dumb thought. He was well aware he wasn’t like other omegas, that was half his problem, and likely half the reason he couldn't stay. "Yeah . . . Er what?" He pocketed the sand. He sat on the floor because she didn't have a fucking proper dining room table. _'Someone aught to build her one.'_ He bet she thought he didn't know carpentry, he could show her he wasn't a bum, make her something.  
"You can borrow Delcot." She was smiling because she was going to get rid of him and he wouldn't break anymore of her things. Or it was something worse.  
"Why?" He frowned because it had to be a trap, this was when she asked for something terrible in exchange for it, not because he was growing to like her company.  
"So . . . You can get up the fucking mountain. That's where you were going right?"  
"Right." It was. It was the only place he _could_ go, only place he could survive winter. It was an awful place, he cursed the day he found it existed, that he was forced to call that place home, it was hell. He was tortured there, stripped bare, made more an abomination. The people weren't bad, his brothers, Vesemir, they were stuck in hell with him and that made it . . .better. Then there was the bard, he had fled his home and elected to be with Geralt, he had chosen Kaer Morhen as an acceptable alternative to the hell he came from. Maybe it was different now? That the trials were over, the stone was cool, the halls quiet. Maybe humans saw it as better than something worse. Lambert looked around Malo's house, was this better or worse? If she was running from her hell Kaer Morhen was farther, highest hospitable place within miles. "Of everywhere why live in the blue mountains?"  
"I was asked not to leave the continent proper." She seemed a bit bothered by that question.  
"By who?" She was alone, who did she, an alpha answer to? "Should be able to go wherever the fuck you want." It didn't make sense and that's why his anger rose.  
"Lambert did you not hear the part where I told you-"  
"Can borrow Delcot. Ain't fucking deaf."  
" _Aaaand_ you're welcome." She had wanted him to be greatful, bet she expected him to kiss her fucking feet.  
 _'No touching.'_ Thoughts contradicted themselves and Lambert was feeling confused. "How will you get him back?"  
"I'll walk with you till . . . If I'm not allowed at the gate I understand. You'll have to hoof it from wherever the stopping point is."  
"That's dumb as shit."  
"What more do you want you insufferable prick?" She was teasing but he wasn't laughing.  
"Two people can fit on a fucking horse." He didn't always think before he spoke and he wound up with people looking at him with eyes just like Malo's, angry and dumbstruck.  
"You'd be too close." She whispered her retort.  
"Hands will be on the reigns. You took your blocking shit. I'll . . . Give you one of my daggers. Two of em if your ambidextrous." He had plenty of daggers, more than plenty actually, a unsettling amount if he really thought about it, so he didn't.  
"What for?"  
"A fucking hair pin. What do think it's for? You think I may hurt you just go at it." He made big stupid stabbing motions for clarity. "It'll take twice as long you skipping along-"  
"That . . . Fine." Lambert was better with fists than with words but when it came to disagreements psychical or verbal he'd scrap till he succeeded. The way her mouth twisted at being bested, he liked that, he could stare at the embodiment of his win a little while longer.  
"What made you change your mind?" Did he convince her he wasn’t an absolute monster? Just his organs and blood, maybe his teeth.  
"Will run out of food if you stay much longer." That wasn’t what he had hoped to hear but it was practical and made sense so he didn't start a fight he wasn't sure he could win. That's how you wind up half dead stuck in a house with someone who didn't want you there.  
"First thing in the morning then." He stood, she had asked him to stay in the room, away from her, she'd be stuck pressed to him for hours tomorrow, he could give her a break.  
"Lambert?"  
"Yeah?"  
"When you leave can you . . . Don't take down the nest?" She didn't seem sure, probably because it was such a shitty nest. "I mean if bits are yours take them I'm not-"  
"Less work for me." He shrugged. "Once I'm done with it . . . You can use it." Didn't like omegas but wanted her whole room just built waiting for one? _'Batty.'_

A thought hit him as he got comfortable for the last time in this glorified tent. _'What if she wants a nest for when she finds an omega she doesn't hate?'_ He started rubbing his scent furiously and with defiance. No random omega was going to find comfort from his work even if it was a hack job. Short of stitching Lambert into the fabric he couldn't have made it anymore . . . _Him_. He wondered in passing if there wasn't some omega in waiting how Malo would react to just heavy notes of . . . Him. _'Maybe it'll work like last night. Keep the nightmares away.'_ He was going to rub his glands raw at this rate. _'Or her room will be ruined, maybe she doesn't like . . .'_ He didn't finish that thought, just tossed and turned, scenting himself stupid, scenting himself to sleep.

"Labert." He felt something poke at him, so he turned over to the other side. "Hey Lambert." Turning four inches to his right did not save him so he growled hoping the poking would stop. "Berty you said first thing." It somewhere between ribs, that wasn't a pleased groan it was a pained resetting of air. "LAMBERT YOU LUMP WAKE UP!" Gods could she be loud when she wanted to.  
"Fucking what?" He finally sat up and this time every bone didn't bark, every stitch didn't scream, he wasn't even a quarter dead anymore. If Malo hadn't- "Is that a fucking broomstick?"  
"I . . . It . . . Yes. . . Yes it is." Malo gave up on thinking of a better answer mighty quick.  
"Why?" Lambert didn’t even start to think of a better question.  
"Didn't want to touch you." She stated as if it was obvious which by this point it really should have been.  
"I don't care if you touch me . . . " No that wasn't true, he definitely cared. "I meant . . . In this way in . . ." What word was he searching for. "I'm not yours." He settled on a very unhelpful summary of thoughts he did not voice.  
"I care if I touch you." She sounded sad again and fuck if that wasn't growing annoying. The sound of her voice sad was a wobbly pitch and it shook at his ears the wrong way. He'd have to make sure he kept her less than sad, atleast till they got half way up the mountain, he could manage from there. He wasn't the best at anything but he was pretty good at being self reliant.

"So is your definition of first thing in the morning half past noon?" She was teasing again and he let out a sigh of relief.  
"Get off my dick." He snorted, then his eyes shot to her, she was weird about a lot of stuff would even mentioning his dick make her tense or sad again?  
"Once you get off mine." She could snort right back and fuck if that wasn't funny, cute if he thought about it but he didn't.  
 _'Not a lot of things.'_ He corrected himself. _'Just one thing. Touching.'_ He could follow one rule, he wasn't _so_ dense.  
"Delcot is ready when you are my leige."  
"Alright alright lady I get it." He got up and grabbed his things. "Fuck." Little emphasis never hurt anyone.

It was a house not a palace, they made it to the front door in no time. He finally answered his swords. They were going home now. They made it all of six fucking feet before their day came to a screeching hault. "Well that . . . Fuck me." Malo didn't seem angry or sad, not even scared but she wasn't in a good mood.  
"What?"  
"Ghouls got them."  
"W-" It got to his nose first, blood, chicken blood. He saw it next, coop shredded to bits. _'How didn't I hear that?'_ He had been sleeping deeper lately but this was ridiculous, he had failed at sensing a monster. "Gotta be a nest near by." He started pacing Malo's house perimeter, didn't take him six more steps to find their scent.  
"Nope."  
"Nope what? I'm a fucking witcher it's what I do. Can clear a fucking ghoul nest."  
"I'm sure you _can_. You can clear it on your way down in spring. You're still healing I'd like to get you up the mountain in one piece."  
"They won't wait till fucking spring. Fresh out of chickens you're next." He went stomping in the direction of the scent. _'What'll she eat now? Probably fucking carrots. She'll turn into one at this rate. Skinny thing.'_  
"Lambert!!" Fuck the lungs on her.  
"Stop nagging! Quicker you let me do my job faster I'll be out of you hair." That promise normally did the trick.

He found them fast, killed them faster. All that was left was blowing up the nest. His favorite part. Loud noises bothered him, but the sizzle and satisfying pop, fucking music really. "Oh shit!" He turned and Malo was at a distance but much closer than he thought, or would have suggested, horse in toe. She was shocked, not scared, he could tell because her eyes were . . . Entertained? Maybe just bewildered? Happy he wasn't eaten? Fuck if he knew, human emotions were complicated.  
"You like monsters?" He took a guess.  
"Like? Well no, they ate my fucking chickens. Those howls will haunt my dreams but-"  
 _'Not in the nest. Sleep there. You won't have nightmares. Acid smell will burn em away.'_ He waited to hear this but.  
"You were . . . Fast."  
"Am." He wasn't the best or the brightest, fastest maybe? "All witchers are fast." No sense getting a big head about it. They were going to have to widen the door frames for the white wolf, brain swimming with sonnets stroking his cock, to get through.  
"That was neat to watch."  
"Neat?" He and his whole wretched profession had been called a whole lot of things, neat had never been one of them. Normally when he finished a job all he heard was complaints about damage done to land or precious albeit cursed objects, or griping about the work not being worth what he was being paid, barely enough to cover the bandages he'd need to keep himself from bleeding dry. "Not neat." Hell, damnation, the slowest form of suicide for someone as fast as him.  
"Are you hurt?" Right she was scared of witcher retribution. He was best off not telling her that one got a good gnaw at the inside of his elbow, she'd get scared or sad for herself and he didn't want that wobbly voice back.  
"Thought you were in a fucking rush." He walked up to her. He was going to grab the reigns from her but he stopped. _'Do not touch.'_ He laid open his palm and the smile he got was, far too fucking thankful.  
"You always blow them up?"  
"When I can." He hopped up into the saddle. He had been doing good for half a minute but he forgot again and held out a hand to help her up. She frowned at it. _'Batty girl. Women normally eat up chivalry.'_ He wanted to get moving but he was patient, let her get herself up. "Ever see a Zegul pop?" He filled the silence as she adjusted herself as far as she could behind him without falling off.  
"No. What's it like?"  
"A fucking mess. Just guts and grime for . . . Shit sails." Women did not eat up gore. He was expecting some paled out gasp, so he started riding hoping the sound of hoofs would drown out any wobble.  
"Bombs would be my go to . . . Just nope on nope. Swords would mean too close to teeth."  
"Only got so many bombs. Some only work on certain fuckers, got to get the angle right. It's an art. Don't get in the business of messing with monsters." He didn't want her to think any fucker with a crate of salt petter could do what he did. It wasn't dumb luck, he did have talents. He wasn't gloating or trying to impress her, he was warning her.  
"There's more than one type of bomb? Thought they all did pretty much the same the same . . . You know boom!"  
"You are fucking helpless."  
"Yeah I know, kinda thick skulled. I should know more about the world but I-"  
"Called you helpless not stupid. All humans are helpless nothing you can do about that." She wasn't fucking dumb, why was this the third time he'd had to say that? "Someone call you an idiot?"  
"Why? You going to kill them seeing as I leant you my horse?" Her voice sounded that amused sad mix again and Lambert didn’t know why.  
"Maybe? If I'm feeling extra fucking nice." He didn't like repeating himself, if he killed whoever called her dumb maybe he wouldn't have to. He hadn't been teasing but she was laughing, didn't sound at him and it got rid of the wobble so he let it slide.  
"Only you could sort of threaten to murder someone only if you are in a good mood."  
 _'Only me.'_ She said it like she knew him, she didn't, why that made his stomach turn he wasn't quite sure. "That one was grapeshot."  
"Huh?"  
"The bomb. A highly democratic explosive that wounds everyone within range, whether human or monster." He quoted some old book but fuck if those words didn't sound smart. If she was self conscious about knowing shit, he could recite half a dozen alchamey books from memory. Anytime someone teased her in a way that didn't make her laugh she could quote that and shut them the fuck up. So he went with that plan, she didn't yawn or make wobbly sounds so he figured it was a pretty good fucking plan. It took them all the way to the halfway marker.

"That my cue?" Malo pointed at a sign in three languages saying turn back, there was long dried blood on it.  
"Don't be an asshole. That's my job."  
"Huh?  
"Delcot's gonna need a rest. You have him stable at Kaer Morhen for a few hours before heading back down. I'll make food for a change. Or maybe Vesemir has already made dinner and you can have my vegetables." He was rambling but he did that sometimes when he got started and no one punched him in the face to make him stop.  
"Lambert I'm not so sure that's a good idea." She only said that because he didn't finish his explanation.  
"If you head back now he's gonna need a rest midway. You shouldn't stall on the killer you'll get . . . It's called the killer for a reason." He didn't want to be the cause for two dead horses in one week, that's why he snapped his heels and kept them moving. He was not grabbing at any excuse to delay their parting a little while longer.

They didn't speak for another hour or so, till he couldn't fucking ignore it any longer. "Look Malo I know you said no touching but-"  
"I did." He could hear her heart pick up.  
"And I fucking won't." He swore. "But I'm in armor and you're wearing all the shirts. If you leaned against me to get warmer it'd just be cloth on leather. Not touching right?" She was shivering, humans were a lot more susceptible to the cold, helpless things.  
"It-"  
"If you think it's touching it's touching, you don't have to, I won't fucking make you." She had one rule he didn't want her to think he was ignoring it again. She'd kick him off the horse and he'd have to walk the rest of the way. He was lazy he didn't want to walk the steepest bit if he didn't have to.  
"I . . . Want to."  
"But?" She was just as far away as she had been before.  
"Sometimes what you want is . . . Still a bad idea." This was a fine idea, he thought of it himself. That argument didn't sound mighty convincing so he went with a different angle.  
"I need to get you up there in one fucking piece. The bard gets all mopey at dead bodies. When the bard mopes Geralt gets all cagey and pushy." She wasn't moving so he got to the worst of it. "If you die of frostbite Jaskier will write some fucking funeral ballad like he was fucking your closest confidant and he just won't shut up. Who is he going to sing it at while even cuddling fucking mopey? Me. My fucking ears Malo! Don't be an asshole just-"  
"That's your job." She slid forward, inch by fucking inch, till her chest was firmly at his back. "For your ears Lambert." Her arms went around his waist, Lambert wasn't sure he'd ever sat so fucking still in his whole life. She was careful to make sure her hands hugged at her elbows, not touching him, one of those hands clutching a dagger.  
 _'Smart not stupid, keeping her guard up.'_ He started trotting again.

Between the leather of his armor and her all the shirts he really couldn't feel her. She was closer though, he could smell her better. Mostly that wet leaves suppressants smell but he could smell the mint a bit better. The smell of mint was calming, because it fucking was, scientifically, it was in fucking books, so there was no fucking need to think on why the smell of mint made him a little less angry. "Your nose ok?" He did not smell like mint, he smelled of ghoul guts horse shit and lemon. Though human noses were helpless things maybe he wasn’t as offensive to her.  
"Nose is fine Berty." Her face was likely the coldest bit of her, that's why she burried her face between his shoulder blades, she was tired and that's why she sounded a bit floaty.  
"Should just call me by my name." He teased but she didn't laugh, infact she pulled away, removing her body heat, that's why he felt cold at the loss.  
"Sorry." There was that annoying fucking wobble.  
"I was just fucking kidding. You can. . . I should be able to call you something then." He huffed, that was only fair. "Didn't like the first one. Called you skinny thing a couple times didn't bother you as much. How bout-" All good witchers had nicknames, he wanted one, even if Berty didn't exactly insight fear at the same degree the butcher of Blavakin did.  
"Like that one worse." Back to amused but sad and he decided that was just annoying as the wobble.  
"Worse than marsh-" Well shit, names didn't fall from fucking trees.  
"Someone else used to call me that." This sad was different, deep, worse.  
"Someone you miss or someone you hated?"  
"Points for both?"  
"That's confusing as shit."  
"Humans are confusing as shit." The could both chuckle at that.  
"What about me? One or both."  
"Huh?  
"Miss me or hate me once you go?" He did have a method to his madness.  
"You're an asshole-" Right somehow he forgot that part. "And my back will enjoy having it's bed. But I don’t hate you, might even miss you, maybe."  
"So I'm better. I win." He had come out on top, Lambert’s shit eating grin was back.  
"Win what?"  
"Right to call you Marshmalo. Don't think of that fucking loser. Let me say it cause I'm fucking better than them." That was flawless fucking logic, she couldn't argue with that.  
"I-" Or could she. "Sure Berty." She let out one of her exhausted chuckles. He couldn't see her face but in his mind he saw her lips twist in being bested and he let his head linger on the embodiment of his victory for honesty longer than he should.

They were close, so fucking close, he could see the gate, and yet still not close enough for everything to keep from going to shit. He had it under control for a minute. "Drop your fucking weapons!" He shouted at the tree line.  
"Lambert what's going on?!" She sounded angry because despite being batty and even under all the suppressants, she was an alpha and alphas under attack got angry. He was just glad she wasn't angry with him, that's what made him smile briefly.  
"Told ya they were looking for me." Three wolves appeared almost out of thin air.  
"Lambert you're alive! We . . . Who is that? Why does she have a dagger on you?" Geralt was growling because he was an alpha too and nothing about him was suppressed.  
"Dagger?" He had honesty forgot it was there, she hadn't stabbed him him. _'Didn't think I'd hurt her.'_ Honestly she had smelled scared in hours. "This is Malo. She'll put the dagger away once you frothing morons drop your weapons right?"  
"Lambert they do not seem happy to see me."  
"I won't let them touch you I promise." She only cared about that one thing.  
"Fine. I'll drop it." She still sounded angry. Fuck Lambert had never been the cooler head before.  
"She . . . Came with you?" Eskel was even enough, he didn't sheath his sword but he turned it's point into the earth.  
"This is her fucking horse. Mine died." Lambert hopped off Delcot and walked to his mentor a half apologetic look on his face.  
"Well so long as you made it Lambert." Vesemir's blade followed suit.  
"Dagger's still out." Geralt hadn't taken his eyes off Malo. Geralt spent more time with humans than most. Made him somehow trust them more and paradoxically less than any other witcher.  
"Why would I want to stab Lambert?"  
"Do not fucking answer that question." He wanted a bath, not brutal brotherly honesty.  
"Hmm." Geralt didn't smile but his shoulders lost some of their rigidity.  
"If you didn't kill him on the way up, not likely to try it now." Geralt did sheath his blade. Everyone had calmed the fuck down, listened to reason. Everyone except the person who never listened, who in his defense had very human ears and from his spot at at a lookout post even a witcher couldn't hear. Also to his defense Jaskier was a much better omega than Lambert and when it really counted listened to his alpha. Geralt had said if he had a clear shot take it, he had a clear shot and the trigger on the crossbow released.

"Malo look out!" He heard the bolt before he saw it. No one could get to her in time, not even him and he was the fucking fastest. Jaskier wasn't the best shot so he missed his mark of something vital like a heart of brain but he did hit flesh, went right into her shoulder knocked her clean of Delcot's back. "Fuck!" He ran to her. She wasn't screaming in pain why wasn't she screaming in pain? Another bolt flew, Lambert was fast enough that time, slicing it clean out the air. "Stop fucking shooting or I swear to any god you like I'll gut you hole to hole!" He shouted loud enough hikers on the Amell mountains likely heard him. Once he got to her, he saw it she was biting into her hand stifling any shout, pulling more fucking blood. "Shit." He fell to his knees and reached out to remove the bolt.  
"Don't touch me!" A third time? The gods felt the need to curse him a third fucking time? Send him someone patient, that didn't demand he serve her, someone who didn't hate his scent, who teased and pretended to care about bombs. Delivered him right to her, let her start to fucking tolerate him, let him get her so close to his home. Then she got shot, by the only other fucking omega in hundreds of miles.

 _'If she didn't hate us before.'_ He wasn't human why did he feel so helpless. "Fuck."


	3. Keep your friends close

"Malo it's gotta come out it'll hurt but . . . Fuck. You have to let me touch you." His eyes grew wide as he watched hers water, heard her grunt and growl. She rolled from her back to her side and snapped the feathered end with a slammed fist. Rolling onto her stomach was a chore.  
"Ahhhh! Ahh! Fuck!" She pulled the bolt clean through the back.  
 _'She wasn't kidding.'_ Lambert's hands were hovering over her body, completely useless.  
"Fuck." She was shaking, crying, bleeding. It wasn't bad, she wouldn't die, it was just the assault on his sense that had him bothered. "Berty?"  
"Y . . . Yeah? Malo let me help-" She was struggling to use her uninjured arm to sit herself up.  
"Don't touch me." She repeated. " _You_ promised me Lambert." The way she said _you_ should have meant something but he couldn't think much other than mint and blood together was by and far the worst smell, and there had been some heavy contenders.  
"Yeah alright. No one will touch you I promise." Lambert stood himself in Jaskier's line of scope on the off chance he was still somehow out of the loop.  
"He didn't know." Geralt had to be aware that sentence didn't help but he said it all the same. "He was trying to protect you."  
"I don't need protection." Lambert had never felt this level if rage. "Everything was fucking fine till he went and fucked it up."  
"He didn't mean to hurt you. He didn't know-" Geralt took a step forward because even he was unsettled by Lambert's lividity, probably thought he was going to do something stupid.  
"Well _I_ ain't fucking hurt. _Malo_ is." Lambert took a step towards Geralt, he felt like doing something stupid.  
"LAMBERT!" Geralt's voice was loud, commanding, he had all eyes on him.  
"Lambert?" Right, Malo was still there, still bleeding.  
"Yeah? What-" He glared at Geralt a second longer but the dick measuring contest would have to wait. "What do you need Malo, let me . . . I'll fucking fix it."  
"You got . . ." She was finally on her feet, clutching her right shoulder. "Any needles? Maybe a pain killer?"  
"Do we fucking ever! It's your lucky day." Maybe if he upsold she wouldn't see everything for the pure drek that it was, maybe she'd stop shaking.  
"All my chickens are dead. I spent ten hours riding a trail called the killer. Got shot at . . . _Twice_. Am I missing anything?"  
"I stopped the second one from hitting you." He shrugged because what else could he fucking do. "Was too far-" Lambert was wincing, he should have been faster.  
"True. Suppose as far as my luck goes this is a good day." She was smiling at him.  
 _'Fucking batty.'_ He smiled back.  
"Can . . . Are these pain killers _inside_? Cause this really does hurt and it's getting pretty cold out. Unless that's the blood loss?" She peeled her hand back and inspected it, she looked unimpressed. "Seen worse likely not-"  
"Here." He had taken off his jacket, handing it out to her. "If it stops your complaining for five fucking minutes." She had been whining and that was enough of that.  
"I was shot! I get to complain till . . . I'll complain even when you can't hear me."  
"That's . . ." Lambert was doing some logistics in his head. She was loud so he'd be hearing her for a while, though her point wasn't invalid, he tended to piss and moan after being shot. "Fuck."  
"I am . . . What is going on here?" Eskel was confused.  
"We're going inside. Blood will draw beasts." Vesemir sighed, over these reunion shenanigans already.

She was brought inside and things just got worse. "I am so sorry I didn't-" Jaskier was barreling towards them and he was sure as fuck going to touch Malo. Lambert thought fast and went with witcher instincts. He cast a sign and Jaskier ran full force into a hazy golden wall.  
"What . . . What is this?" Malo poked at it with wonder.  
"Quen." Lambert shrugged pointing over at a bench waiting patiently as he could for her to sit.  
"Which is?"  
"Things _I_ don’t like touching me tend to have worse claws and fangs than I do." He crooked a finger in his mouth, showing off his canines and fuck if he wasn't finding it easy to make her laugh, maybe Malo was just that kind of person, someone who liked to laugh. He was half decent with wit, he could be the kind of person that made people laugh, he thought maybe he'd like to. "It's a sign . . . Er like a spell . . . Forcefield more or less."  
"Jealous." She ran both palms long the orb and for almost a second he felt her fingers, not litteraly but in one of those poetic ways the bard went on about  
"If you just ask I'll . . ." Well he really should direct her to Eskel he was better at magic and- "I won't touch you but . . . What if Eskel did?" That wound was still . . . Oozing and he did still hate the smell of mint and blood. Eskel was a beta not an omega like Lambert and Jaskier whose touch was apparently like hot coals into feathers, not an Alpha like Geralt, those two weren't likely to be on touching terms at first greeting.  
"Whose Eskel?" She was concidering it and that was what he wanted. If Eskel was allowed to touch her he could be rid of that awful smell so he wasn't sure why this theory stung like it did.  
"That-" And at this Lambert blinked a bit stupidly, Quen fell. He hadn't really had time for introductions what with the shooting and all. He raised a finger to point to his brother but she was talking again.  
"Lambert I know the phrase no one might have _seemed_ vauge but it really wasn't, I don't want anyone to touch me." That sentence took away the sting, he should have just dropped it but he was an asshole.  
"So it . . . Wasn't just omegas?"  
"What?"  
"That hurt you? Alphas and betas too?"  
"I . . . Don't think any betas . . . I don't like talking about it. Don't bother yourself with it." She clamped up and that was fair. He tended not to be in a sharing mood when he was bleeding openly in a new and unfamiliar place, or under any other circumstance but that was neither here nor there. Though he tucked that sentence in the back of his head, more acuretly it burrowed it's way into his brain. "Medicine? Needles?" She had seen his face go a bit torn, he wanted to help, to not be an asshole but he was just so fucking angry.  
"You're right handed." He stated vapidly.  
"So's most the continent what's your point."  
"Can't sew your own stitches." That was not quits lie more an assumption, he'd stitched at least six of his own wounds shut with no hands, with his teeth but all six had scared and maybe he didn't want her going away present to be a scar, he wasn't _that_ much of an asshole.

  
"Eskel." His brother had done what he couldn't, something, any fucking thing, he had scrounged through his pack and found a potion. By the fancy fucking bottle Lambert could tell it wasn't a witcher potion, likely something Eskel looted from an overturn cart or a corpse that had no longer had a use for it.  
"Thanks." Her hands were very careful to skirt Eskel's as she took the vial. He saw her bring it to her teeth, right hand just acting as a still groto for the dripping blood to pool in.  
"Helpless." Lambert reached out and popped the cork, it was less than Eskel but more than nothing. "Just . . . Drink half of it." Just because it was a witcher potion didn't mean it couldn't kill her, who knows what hack brewed it.  
"An asshole or a nag you can't be both Lambert."  
"Fuck says I can't?" Teasing, she tolerated him best when she was teasing. "How'd you do it?"  
"What's . . ." She coughed over what smelled of pure alcohol, which was better than nothing, should dull the pain. "That?"  
"Stitched me up. How'd you do it without touching me?"  
"Had to touch you." She seemed queasy on remembering doing something she clearly detested. "You were dying. _I_ . . . You big nag, am not dying. Find me some stitches?"  
"I . . . Sure. If anyone of you touch her I'll never hear the fucking end of it so keep your mitts to yourself." He let his eyes linger on Jaskier whose hands rose in defense.

He sprinted, it was smart sending him, he was the fastest. _'Ain't fucking fair though.'_ He thought as he slamed open and shut a good twelve drawers.  
"Highest on the left." Eskel shouted.  
"Fuck you I know where I left it!" He knew where he left it seven years ago, the fact someone had moved it since then what was he a fucking sooth sayer? He did find it where Eskel had said and was quick to return, same thought in his head. "Ain't fuckin fair."  
"I'm sorry?" Gods Malo was patient, how long had she been sitting there bleeding? Twenty minutes? A half hour? Long enough the whole room reeked of mint and blood.  
"You touched me without fucking asking. That ain't fair."  
"I . . . If thought you would've answered me I-"  
"Excuses. You're going to let one of us stitch you up to make up for it."  
"You don't order me around Lambert." Malo stood and she looked angry.  
"I . . . It ain't an order alright. . . . I'm an asshole everything sounds like I'm being a prick. You stitched me up, fed me, dealt with my shit . . . I hate having to owe people . . . I didn't mean-"  
"Can you do it with your eyes closed?" He had been tripped up by thinking her questions to be rhetorical before, he wasn't going to let it happen again.  
"Told ya I patch shit up all the time. Course I could do it . . ." She wasn't questioning his sewing skills. "I'll do it with my eyes closed. Won't look at you till you have at least seven shirts on." Something itched at his head for a second. "Vesemir's got a steadier hand." He _could_ stitch her in the dark, but they'd be his stitches, heavy and uneven with the best light.  
"You're the one making this six times more complicated than it needs to be! You're fucking doing it!" She still sounded angry and Lambert didn’t know why.  
 _'She was shot . . . Allowed to be angry.'_ Well if that was the case- "I'm making it more complicated?! You're the one who wants me to do it while fucking holding a handstand in the dark!"  
"Again . . . What _is_ happening?" Eskel clearly figured he was missing something, he wasn't. Lambert knew first hand, angry felt better when someone else was furious, it felt more satisfying in your bones.  
"Take her to a free room and clean her up Lambert. She's making a mess of my floor." Vesemir always did know how to ruin a good shouting match.  
"Come on." He was getting better, he didn't offer her his hand this time, just waiting till she stood.

"Plenty of clear rooms. Want a view? Or maybe bunk beds? A balcony?" He hated awkward silences. "We're all in one hall. I know you like hearing your voice carry, I can put you somewhere far from the wolves so you can shout at me cross the keep." She liked space, Kaer Morhen had plenty of that.  
"So you're not going to let me go home once you stitch me up?" She didn't exactly sound floored, nor ecstatic some place in pure exhausted acceptance.  
"Told ya don't like owing people. You're gonna stay a few days. You're going to have two servings of vegetables and red meat, you need to eat, humans don't heal like-" He paused when they reached the top of the stairs. "We're on the left, so shout that way. My rooms the third one, not sure if you're as solid with your pitch as the trained bard but-"  
"Why all on the left. Are the beds warmer on this side?"  
"Yes." That was more or less a lie, they just navigated to the left because Vesemir's room was there and he certainly wasn't going to move all his shit just because his pups wanted to feel a little less lonely. Far as beds went, course they had the warmest ones but there were decent beds on the right, or up on the higher floors, probably, he never really checked, he didn't really get cold. "If you want . . . The one next to me has a crumbling ceiling but next over's fine. You can have that one." He'd have Jaskier test out every bed in the whole fucking keep and find the warmest available one, he'd swap it out when she wasn't looking, then he technically wouldn't be a liar.  
"No one will-"  
"I will stab everyone as many times as I have to, make it abundantly clear no one touches Marshmalo, no one touch her shit."  
"I-"  
"No one will hurt you here I promise." He really just didn't want to get mocked when she did yell at him from across the keep, it _would_ happen, she was loud and he was an asshole.  
"Lambert I was shot within four minutes of seeing the front door."  
"Fuck." Her patience was fucking boundless, she was going to bleed dry listening to him babble. "Starting now." Fantastic fucking save. "Room. Close or far?"  
"I want a warm bed." She made practical choices, can't help but smile at that.  
"Alright." Left it was.  
"Give me a minute I . . ."  
"Yeah." She had caved on letting him touch her, she was nervous, which was better than scared or angry but not great. "I'll be fast . . . Er . . . I'll try to make sure they don't pinch. . . . Just let me . . . I'll fix it once you're ready alright?"  
"Thank you Lambert." She opened the door to her room. "I know I'm a spazz and you don't seem to be the most patient man alive-"  
"Fuck says I'm not? I'm patient as shit. Read a book while your in there." He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, smiling cause he got both, she laughed and he could see her lips twist even blind.

"Eyes closed?!" She called after maybe another fucking twenty minutes. Did she have any blood left?  
"Can't close em any fucking more!" Why were they already shouting? Fuck was he just as loud as her?  
"Alright come in." He felt fucking stupid, the last time he entered a bedroom eyes closed the room smelled of lavender candles and too much lust, here it was just blood and mint.  
"Fuck." His knee hit an end table. "I have enhanced senses I'm not a fucking bat. Anymore furniture I should be aware of?"  
"No. Turn left, four feet, stop." He reached out a palm and he had grabbed her whole fucking face in it. Not in a gentle cradling embrace sort of way, just his big fucking hand swallowing all of her features. "Hi." Her voice was pinched, even her face was tense.  
"Hey." He moved his to the right, letting it slide carefully over her neck, spill into a bare shoulder.  
"Just my shoulder promise?"  
"I . . . Yeah I promise. I . . . Fuck." He held up a thread and needle he really should have paired before welding his eyes shut. She was laughing _at_ him but he let it slide, she had been shot, he'd let a lot go today.

For a moment the thread and needle were picked from him, he heard her curse under her breath as it took her three or so times to get it through the eye. It hurt to hold her right arm bent, he could hear a small whine under the colorful words. It must've been static shock from these ancient fucking bear pelts cause she didn't fucking take him by surprise when their fingers touched as she passed it back to him. She felt it too, that was the flinch and gasp, nothing worse nothing better, static shock, no need to think about it. The needle peirced her skin and it wasn’t the same wobbled tone but it was high and it hurt so he talked over it. "Knock knock."  
"What?"  
"You're supposed to say whose there do you not know how these fucking things work?" When he was training, he remembered the older witchers telling him jokes to distract from the setting of bones, the sewing of muscles, if you were joking you couldn't be hurting that was the rule.  
"Fine whose there?"  
"Interrupting sloth." Her mouth was half way twisted he knew it. Then it was silent, they both were full grown adults they knew where this was going, and so they hung in stubborn painful silence as Lambert blindly sewed her shut. Minutes passed.  
"Lambert I don't think-"  
"Sloth" Cause what fucking sound does a sloth make? "Told you I was patient as shit." He decided he was a person that made people laugh, her laugh, it would keep the pain away and she didn't want to talk about it but this crossbow wound was the least of her hurt. He hurt, but he didn't think about it.

"You . . . Now I know how you felt."  
"My injury was way worse." Lambert scoffed, she hadn't been dramatic yet, he didn't want her to start now.  
"No about not knowing what . . . Do you want something from me Lambert?"  
"I . . ." Did he? He should, for all the fucking work he was putting in. He smeared her shoulder clean of the remaining blood. "Don't know yet. I'm pretty fucking selfish so . . . Probably." He could hear her heart pick up speed.  
"Keep it on you." Pulling it from his waistband he tossed the dagger she had dropped in her lap. He was an asshole, he could hurt her without meaning to, what if what he wanted was to break her one fucking rule? Well his offer still stood, if she thought he would hurt her, she was in her right to stab him. He wouldn't be like his father, he was a lot of things he hated, things he didn't have a choice in, he had a choice when it came to that. "Right now I want you to sleep off whatever Eskel gave you. I'll bring you up dinner ok?"  
"I brought you food because you had broken both your legs Lambert. I can walk downstairs. I know you think humans are helpless but-"  
"It's your fucking palace do what you want." Which was it? Did she want all the space in the spheres or did she want to sit next to him at dinner and listen to him try out more bad jokes? Humans were confusing as shit.  
"I'll be out of your hair soon Lambert." He hit his fucking knee on the end table again, that's what fucking hurt.

Why was that fucking smell following him? Mint and blood, each step just as strong. His fucking hand. He held it up to his face, he wanted to get rid of the smell so he did what he knew would work, he licked it clean. _'Meh.'_ It didn't taste half as bad as it smelled which was a godsend but it wasn't a great taste, more of blood than mint. He wondered briefly if her lips tasted crisp, her fingers, her shoulder and neck, he was remapping places he had felt, and before the whole blood business everything had felt, well it felt like fucking skin, warm and soft like it should be, pleasant but not supernaturally so. Which is why it was odd, that he was entranced by her skin, it was the same as anyone else's. _'It's cause I can't have it that's why I want it. Cause I'm an selfish asshole.'_

He returned downstairs and he was more or less mauled, tackled into a thankfully sturdy wall. There were hands around him, tussling at his hair, faces and noses rubbing up against him, Geralt might've bitten at him to make sure he wasn't some ghost, he was fairly certain Jaskier had slipped a tongue in long his neck, way too fucking close to his ear. It was a whole fucking lot. "We missed you."  
"Thought you were dead Lamber."  
"Glad that you're not Lambert."  
"Lambert don't scare us like that."  
"Lamber when was the last time you bathed?"  
"He's fine leave Lambert be."  
"You're fine Lambert."  
"Welcome home Lambert."  
"You're safe now Lambert." He didn't know who was saying what, whose hands were whose and it was all a bit too much.  
"Enough." Lambert finally shoved himself free. "Get all your hands off me." It was nice to be missed but fuck.

"Learn that from your new mate?" Geralt wasn't always this prickly but someone new was in his den, had some sort of sway over his packmate. What else was an alpha to do but be as big and imposing as possible? He had to protect his family. Lambert could appreciate it, was happy to have a family the cared about him but sometimes he still felt not quite right, like he didn’t exactly fit.  
"Not like that." Geralt might not have been too far off. He wasn't touched often, much less for free when out on the path but come winter everyone was fairly liberal with touching, holding scenting. Starting winter without that had his bearings askew. He had been touch deprived and it made him hyper aware of the onslaught. Most of the touches were fine, welcomed, even, the one's that weren't, they weren't bad touches they were just off. Maybe Malo had taught him it was fine to have preferences and not just take anything and everything while the grounds were flush with it. He liked to be touched, held, scenting was good stress reliving fun but they all gushed too much. Surely couldn't be him, that he wasn't receptive to affection, that he had some hang ups related to long burried trauma. The hand in his hair felt too heavy and loose, the bite was too wide, felt a bit possessive, the tongue, well Jaskier knew fucking well he didn't trust where that had been and he wanted it nowhere near his ear. All in all his preference was less, lighter, small doses, he didn't want to feel attacked with affection, it didn't sit right. "That's Malo. She's a bit batty but she ain't dumb."  
"Followed you up the mountain got to be a _little_ dumb." Geralt tried to dial back a bit, he knew if he pushed Lambert too hard he could and would avoid the white wolf all winter which would make Lambert’s heat even more of a terror than it already was.  
"Don't call her stupid." Lambert's palms slammed into the wide wooden table they had navigated to. "If I hear a single one of you fuckers-"  
"We won't. We . . . You seem to really like her. Tell me absolutely everything of your love story and try to tell it with a minimum of four curse words per sentence." Jaskier's voice was breezy, could calm a volcano if he wanted to.  
"She's not my mate she . . . Doesn't like omegas much." That was an understatement, they haunted her nightmares. "She . . . Someone . . .The reason she doesn't like to be touched, think it has to do with omegas mostly." Lambert’s shoulders folded a little bit. No wonder she didn't like talking about it, he only had the vaugest of notions and it was bumming _him_ out.  
"Oh." Jaskier sounded worried.  
"She's not . . . Just don’t touch her ok? Like at all. Jaskier I know you don't mean to-" It wasn't the bard's fault, he was a good omega open and affectionate, tender, touching, soothing, he wasn't an asshole. He and Geralt were so good together, so happy, there was so much happiness they had stuff to spare, to drape over others.  
"Will she be staying long?" Jaskier knew himself, knew he was touchy feely, he'd do it by accident and Malo would absolutely lose her shit.  
"She'll be out of my hair in no time." Fuck if that promise wasn’t getting old.  
"No offense but if she doesn't like omegas how did she wind up here . . . With you?" Eskel asked the question everyone was thinking.  
"I . . . Witch hunters got the best of me . . . Lost my fucking footing, fell, hard. Made it all the way to the tip of the trail and she-"  
"Lambert we were up and down that trail. You were at the bottom then you disappeared off the face of the continent. Is she a sorceress?"  
"You saw her cream her pants over quen. Malo doesn't dable in magic."  
"Well . . . Someone was. We looked for you and-" Geralt was grumbling again, the memory of searching but not finding his brother was not clearly not a pleasant one.  
"So you didn't see her house?"  
"I would have noticed someone infringing on our real-estate." Vesemir finally joined the conversation.  
"Don't . . . She won't bother anyone. Let her stay down there? She'll keep to herself." Well fuck this day wasn't getting better. Was Malo's goodwill going to get her kicked out of her fucking home. _'If she didn't hate me already.'_  
"Hmm." Vesemir recalled better than the boys the last time those who weren't wolves started creeping in on their territory, it cost them everything. "Talk for tomorrow pup." He ran a soothing hand up Lambert's neck. Which was fine for a second till he realized how coddling it was and pulled back. "We've had our fill of excitement for today."  
"So what does she want? If not a mate?" Eskel didn't sound as harsh or as judgemental as the others more curious.  
"Her horse back?" Lambert shrugged. They were playing real fast and real fucking loose with what either of them were getting out of this.  
"Huh." Lambert looked over at Eskel for a moment and a bad, terribly selfish idea hit him.  
 _'If I can get her to like Eskel . . . He's a beta . . . Maybe she will stay. Laugh at my jokes, be patient with me."_ If she staid he'd be less angry, he wanted to be less angry, even if the thought of Eskel finding out if she tasted like mint and not him made something inside pinch, he'd do anything to be a little less angry for just a little while longer. "She's my fucking friend alright?" All the things he wanted from her fit into that slot, he wanted a fucking friend.  
"It's good to have friends." Eskel had his back which was something.  
 _'He'll like her.'_ Lambert nodded. Malo was fucking loud and teased decently, wasn't squeamish around blood, she laughed at almost anything. Only an idiot wouldn't like her and Eskel was smart as shit.

Things simmered eventually, they stopped talking about what was new and questionable and got into talking about what was old and familiar, monster hunts, sexual shenanigans and men who had decades to get good and gwent and yet were still playing with garbage decks. Home was fine, things were back to normal. Dinner was a bit off though, he kept glancing up at the stairs waiting for Malo to come down but she never did. _'Probably slept through it, bleed for a fucking hour.'_ He spooned out the carrots out of his stew onto the side of his plate.  
"Lambert don't be wasteful." It was one thing to skimp on sides taking small servings, but in a stew? If it hit your plate you had to finish it, that had been the rule since he was a boy.  
"Malo likes carrots, gonna put it in hers. Ain't wasteful." Lambert was smirking, worked out for fucking everyone.  
"Oooh! Us to! Geralt giver her your carrots!" Jaskier had _technically_ asked but he just pulled Geralt's bowl from him mid spoon, feverishly fishing out orange cubes.  
"Right. Sure she'll forget all about your sniping cause you fed her rabbit food." Geralt rolled his eyes.  
"Worth a shot." Jaskier had a whine to his voice. "Does she hate me?" His eyes were big and asking Lambert desperately not to be an asshole.  
"The fuck should I know?" Lambert watched as the mound of carrots grew as Eskel added his. "She lasted a week with me and she doesn't hate me." It was the best he could offer.  
"How do you know?" Vesemir added his, and all the wolves being on the same page, Lambert could smirk at that marvel.  
"She said so." That got some unconvinced humms. "She . . . Didn't kick me out." He left out the part where he broke her rule and touched her, Jaskier might've taken it as a forgiveness not permission rule and it certainly fucking wasn't.  
"Your aim's getting better." Geralt pulled Jaskier's face to his kissing him proudly maybe reassuring him in a way Lambert's statements hadn't. "Quite the little sharp shooter." A pleased hum came from his chest as he broke the kiss and let his teeth find their place over a well kept mark.  
"Your little sharp shooter." Lambert had seen it hundreds maybe a thousand times, he'd seen them do far more, dressed in far less, His stomach always turned because all that gushing endearments was stupid and tooth rotting sweet but it had never made him angry, or more accurately angrier. Why was he so fucking angry.

"Malo you bum talking a big game about your non broken legs then don't even come down stairs." He teased as he placed the carrot heavy stew outside her door, he wasn't truly snapping just teasing. It had been a lot of bunk that would have probably bored her and she needed the rest.  
"You were relaxing didn't want to ruin it." She opened the door and Lambert was taken a bit back at what he was looking at. Fuck if it didn't stir something in him. She was standing there not in all the shirts, those were in a bloody pile on the floor. All that was covering her upper half was Lambert's jacket. "I'll give it back. Shirts had holes. Any laying around?" Did friends get half hard seeing other friends wearing their clothes? He'd lent Aiden some socks once, his balls didn't twitch staring at his ankles.  
 _'Went a week without a solid spend that's all.'_  
"I'll try not to get my scent on them if that's what you're worried about. Suppressants are still good for a day-"  
"What?" He hadn't been listening, he'd been busy willing a rouge erection into the ether.  
"My scent makes you mad. If you lend me a shirt preferably a long sleeved tunic I'll do my best to keep my glands off the fabric." Why did she think her scent made him mad? Yes he had a negative reaction to blood and mint, and maybe he had gone heavy in making that room in her house smell purely of him, then there was the absolute fury he was in before she took those leafy bog suppressants.  
 _'Fuck.'_ He had made a huge deal about her scent and fuck if that wasn't ironic as anything. He thought on his feet.

"You like nutmeg?"  
"What sort of answer gets me a shirt?" Her patience was low, tone flat.  
"Wait here." He kicked his way into Eskel's room and found what he was looking fo. Smelled mostly of nutmeg, a little bit of general body odor. _'Fuck.'_ He wasn't going to do laundry just to have a plan come together. He made a judgment call that's all, rubbing his own scent onto the garments, lemon and anger was slightly better than pits, that was his thought process. He went back to Malo's room. She was happy with her carrot stew, he would be out of her debt soon, that was worth smiling about. "Here." He held out three shirts. "Do you . . . Need help getting em on? Eyes closed?"  
"These aren't your shirts." She held up what could've been a shrunk ship's sail.  
"No. Eskel's."  
"Did you ask Eskel if-"  
"He won't mind. He's a nice guy. Not an asshole."  
"Right." There was a small hint of wobble there. Was she sad that he was an asshole? That couldn't be helped, so he tuned his focus on what could. "Eyes closed." He was going to get his jacket back.  
"Well I am a helpless human." She could even laugh at herself.  
"All three?"  
"Please?"  
"Arms up slow Marshmalo."

After he got her dressed he tripped blindly out the room. He shuffled into his own room and flopped down on his bed, closed his eyes again. He pulled his jacket over his face, because he wanted it darker still and if the mint calmed some of his anger so fucking be it. He didn't even undo his trousers simply boxed his hand down into his breeches. His hand was fast and rough and angry, but not in his head. In his mind her hand was soft, taking her time because she was fucking patient as shit. He knew what her fingers felt like, last touch that came to mind so it made sense, even in fantasizing he took the path of least resistance. It was her hand in his hair, not that heavy loose pawing of one of his brothers, that sharp static shock feel, tight and tingling. It was his fucking room, he was allowed to fucking grunt like a whore if he wanted to. In his head it wasn't Jaskier's ever roaming tongue it was hers, not too close to his ear fucking on it, roaming round it's curve, slow so light, even in his fantasy he was an asshole, telling her to hurry up.  
 _'Only you.'_ She could tease him even when he was in charge of her words. He didn't know what her teeth felt like but he could imagine, probably like most others. He could imagine her teeth at his neck, biting down something similar to how Geralt bit at Jaskier, proud, happy, devoted. Not as wide a jaw, not as enveloping, less possesive, less protective, because Lambert didn’t want protection he didn't need it. No one had ever protected Lambert from the world, a bite wouldn't chew out the curse from the gods, a mark wouldn't make him suddenly deserving of safety from the hurt that followed his line of mistakes.

He felt himself start to grow slick. He hated when that happened and it always happened when he dragged things out too long, didn't frenzy to beat it, race to finish. It wasn't that it didn't make things easier, smoother, as a finger slid in no one could deny that. Sweeter even, his scent was more of candied lemons in such a state and that's what he hated. His teeth ground at what this bodily function implied. That he was willing and waiting, for anything and anyone, then the next, he was made and open for use. Yet his parts were busted, he was baren, so even if he wanted to and he didn't, he'd fail at the purpose of anything sweet about him. He didn't wanted to be shoved face down in the dirt and had, he wasn't weak. Then fuck, why was he mewling and whining as such. He was so angry, at the implication, at his body for affirming it, for the world establishing roles and status in relation to it. He was so angry he didn't hear the footsteps. He was angry at-  
"Lambert?" There was a soft tap on the door. "You . . . Alright?"  
"The fuck do you want?!" She was an alpha, he was slick and smelling sweet it didn't take genius to get at what she wanted. She had been patient but she couldn't fight her biology any more than he could. She would want to take him and he would fight her, hurt her, touch her. "Leave me alone. For five fucking minutes won't you?" His finger left the slick slide of his body, ripped his jacket from his face and threw it with fury at a far off wall.  
"I . . . Yeah I'm going to go downstairs." He heard the footsteps this time. She hadn't meant him to hear what she was saying as she made her way to the steps but she was louder than average and he had the ears of a witcher, couldn't be helped. "Berty don't hate me please. I don't want to touch you, don't want to hurt you."  
"Fuck." Well alphas were alphas and omegas were omegas and Lambert was an asshole with blue balls.


	4. closer than blood

He meant to apologize for yelling when he brought her breakfast in the morning but he was shit at apologies and really she had to have smelled what he was doing, it was rude as fuck for her to interrupt, so in his mind they were even. Instead he left it at the door and met up with his brothers in the hall.

"You gave her my shirts?" Eskel did always ask the questions worth asking.  
"She needed shirts." Lambert shrugged as they made their way to the training grounds.  
" _You_ don't have shirts?"  
"Mine . . . Smell like me." Another shrug.  
"She really hates your smell that much?" Geralt grumbled a bit, got a bit protective.  
_'She doesn't but . . . Omegas she hates omegas most. Doesn't hate me just . . . Everything I am.'_ That was too much to think on so he brushed past it. "She doesn't hate me." He wasn’t so sure of that maybe that's why he said it aloud, wording it might will it. "She likes the smell of nutmeg." Well she had seemed indifferent to nutmeg, she had just wanted a shirt, any shirt, but this helped his narrative.  
"Oh?" Eskel sounded in that same way Malo did, amused yet sad.  
"Yeah. Now are we done fucking jabbing? Can we get this over with? I need a nap."  
"You just woke up!" Geralt gave him a shove and that felt better, like home, right, Lambert smiled, winter was here.

He kept hearing it, the fucking groans, each time he got hit, every time he wasn't fucking fast enough. It wasn't his groans, he could take these blows, the blades they were using were dull, their punches a bit pulled, this pain really wasn't all that bad, training hurt, got him ready for the real pain out on the path. ' _She going to mother hen me?'_ Just the way she had about the ghouls, she wanted to protect him, coddle him, she didn’t think him man enough for the job because if what he was, needed an alpha over his shoulder. He wasn’t a fucking child. He didn't like the idea of being mounted and rutted against by an alpha but her sitting at a friendly distance from Jaskier staring at them spar, wincing and groaning was some fresh hell. That sort of alpha, ones with generic mass compassion for the weak, getting off on their neediness were worst of all. _'Don't need anyone to watch over me. Fucking fine on my own.'_ It was a vicious circle. The more concerned sounds that came from her the angrier he got, angrier he got the sloppier his form, more hits he took, thus more concerned sounds. "What? Fucking what already?" He stopped mid charge and glared at her. "Think you can do my job fucking better? Want to pick up a sword?"  
"Lambert." Vesemir didn’t like arguments to spill in with blades, emotions had no place with steel.  
"Scratched my fucking knee want to come down and kiss it?" Lambert was only a decent listener when he felt like it and he didn't fucking feel like it.  
"No! I already jig sawed you once. What do I look like your personal healer?!" She was simply tapped of patience which was technically fair, he'd done nothing but shout at her for near a day.  
"Then what the fuck do you want from me?!" He watched as Eskel's tunics fluttered against her small frame and like a bull seeing red he was angrier still.  
"To block better or call it a day!" That . . . Was she critiquing his form? Who the fuck was she? What the fuck did she know?  
"I block just fine."  
"I saw! It was truly impressive!" If she wasn't so red in the face it would have sounded more like a compliment. "Which is why it's short sighted as _fuck_ when you don't block at all coming from the left."  
"What?" She wasn’t telling him to be safe, to be careful, she was telling him to be better.  
"You aren't as fast swinging down from the left, to make up for it you forgo blocking, shaves some time off so what? That's fucking reckless."  
"You don't know shit about what I'm up against-" That crossbow bolt came from the left, she was blaming him for being too slow, it was his fault her arm was in a fucking sling.  
"You're right I don't know shit and I still know blood belongs on the inside not spit out your teeth. Speed doesn't mean shit if by the time you get there your arm's lobbed off."  
"Did anyone ask your fucking opinion?!"  
"I . . .No." Malo stood, scowled something ugly, hugging herself as if hit by a rouge wind and promptly stormed off.  
"She's not wrong you-" Vesemir started.  
"Yes we get it, tale as old as time Geralt is well rounded, Eskel follows direction and I'm a fucking asshole! But don't spare the details old man, tell me again!"

"She . . . Does seem to care about you in her very . . .loud way. I know fighting fire with fire makes the most sense but maybe just _maybe_ cursing her into the cliffs isn't the way to win her over?" Geralt had apparently saw this spat differently than the others, he knew of women, he also knew of lovers quarrels and maybe that's what he was equating it to but Malo wasn't like the women Geralt had tangled with and Lambert and her weren't lovers.  
"Not trying to win her over." Lambert snorted. "Don't want to be claimed I told you that."  
"Right." Geralt had some sort of knowing glance that bordered on patronizing and Lambert sneered as such. "You know when I met Jaskier, hated damn near the way he breathed. Freya knows he didn't keep quiet about traits of mine he found . . . Barbaric."  
"You _are_ barbaric and he does weird fucking breathing exercises." Lambert shrugged but when Geralt just kept staring at him, clearly waiting for something he let out a large sigh and spoke again. "You two are different. Bard fucking loves company course he'd want an alpha, could do worse than you. _I_ don't. I've been put on enough leashes for one lifetime."  
"He . . . Wanted adventure . . . I just happened to be where adventure was." Geralt did remember how to look humble, or maybe it was thankful. Geralt had really dusted the cobwebs from himself since the bard came along, was holding himself higher, impossibly more confident than he had been before. Geralt smiled more, not often but any amount of smiles was more than none, he was happy. "Had nothing to do with what we are."  
"Easy for you to say." Humble, thankful, happy, Lambert had no room for that, he was full, he was angry.

Lambert didn’t want to explain it, his brothers wouldn't understand it. No boy wanted to grow up and be a witcher, so maybe they vaguely understood what it felt like still being resentful of that aspect but his brothers had embraced it, excelled and found peace with it. If the witchers who had given him the grasses weren't already dead Lambert would use every mutation granted to him to kill them again. What Geralt could never understand was, even before being warped and molded Lambert had been born wrong, in the wrong sort of body, with the wrong sort of head. Lambert had always been wrong, Geralt was an alpha and it suited him perfectly, Eskel a beta and he made a fine life out of that. Lambert was an omega and he fucked that up, his sheer existence, every breath was a fucking failure, twist of the knife was he didn't want to succeed. _'Can't fix that sort of wrong and Malo hates omegas, last thing she'd want was one that's unstable with a short fuse.'_ The bath they were sitting in grew long and quiet. Geralt opened his mouth to drop more wisdom but if there was one thing the white wolf was good at, it was shrugging when conversations that he wanted no part of were on the horizon.

"Lambert?!" Fuck if she wasn’t the loudest creature on the continent, shrieking sirens had nothing on her.  
"What?!" He tilted his head back in the direction of the shout.  
"How's it fucking work?" She sounded like she was messing with stuff, problem was this was witcher junk she was messing with, get pricked by something wrong and she'd be in a world of hurt.  
"How's what fucking work? Not a damn bat Marshmalo can't see past where my eyes are."  
"Marshmalo?" Geralt could bother to open his mouth to scoff at that.  
"Shut the fuck up." Lambert's retorts didn't all have to be winners.  
"The door. There's four levers, one's been broken for-"  
"Oh for fucks sake." He got out of the water. She was trying to leave. Could he blame her? Hadn't exactly given her a reason to stay. "Keep fucking planted!" He was stampeding for the steps.  
"Lambert perhaps-" Eskel started.  
"She's gonna leave if I don't catch her." He was halfway up the stairs.  
"Yes but-"  
"Once she's yours then you call the shots Eskel not yet." He had to be fast because Malo was stubborn and she was itching the flee, to get the hell from Kaer Morhen. _'Maybe not so batty, sure as fuck not a dumb idea.'_

"Lambert!" Malo's eyes shot to the ceiling and her hand jutted out, he took that as a sign to stop so his heels bit into stone.  
"Not going to fucking touch you. I know the rule." Her palm was at an odd angle not out infront of her chest but low right around- "Fuck." Lambert was naked, right and fully naked. She didn't seem afraid, he wasn't reaching out to grab. She wasn't overcome with blind alpha lust cause neither was she. Malo was simply admiring the mortar of the ceiling, respecting his . . . Did Lambert have fucking modesty? He grabbed at his crotch trying to gather his dick and his dignity. "Er . . . Dragon's denned." It was a fine play on words, all things considered. Malo laughed, right in his face, as he stood there bare as the day as he was born. Though he didn't feel shame ride up and devour his soul, it was fucking funny so he laughed too. Her hand dropped but her eyes staid up at the ceiling. It was a kind gesture really, any other alpha would just ogle at exposed flesh, appraise it's value, even of a mangled omega because that was their right but not her she was - "You're blushing."  
"Well one of us has to." She gave an uncomfortable chuckle. As fucking funny as it was, he could appreciate it was a bit uncomfortable.  
"Can't." He would fill the silence, he couldn’t do much else.  
"What?"  
"Can't blush. Heart beats too slow, witcher mutations." He shrugged. It was true he couldn't blush but he felt his skin tighten over muscles, waiting for her to look, his blood was steaming anticipating her eyes. It was fight or flight hitting him, no other explanation. That warmed blood well gravity took it where it was going to take it, south. He tightened his hold so if she did look nothing popped loose. He was a man at the end of the day and a firm grip did elicite a pained groan.  
"Oh." She nodded and thought. "Jealous."  
He didn't answer right away, those words were banal compared to what was going through his head. He imagined her looking, but not touching, her eyes traveling over his chest, his arms, his dick. Even in his mind he was an asshole, denied her the request to touch she didn’t make and even in his mind she was patient, didn't touch, just fucking looked at him, her smile twisting the way he liked best. That grumble as he adjusted himself had noticeably less pain to it. In his mind she wasn't touching but he was selfish even in his head, he was touching, stroking, if he thought about it presenting but he was definitely not thinking. She was blushing, a happy heat in her cheeks that he could never achieve, maybe he saw her wet those lips he found himself staring at, caught a glimpse of that sharp tongue of hers, he swore he could smell burning mint and candied lemons and he wasn't angry about it. He felt a tingle pull his spine straight, pleased and proud of his vivid imagination but then he felt a real life finger twitch towards his tip and he shook his head, angry for indulging in weak thoughts.

"You're jealous of odd things." He coughed. She had called him lucky for being sterile, thought how he was a killer by trade neat, was jealous that he could cast signs, devils magic that people spat on him for, now this. "Nothing neat bout being a witcher."  
"Witchers have heightened senses right?"  
"Yeah. Which ain't as neat as it sounds. Ever had a barn owl keep you up at night? Imagine you can hear every owl for a mile."  
"That's why. I understand you wanted us to be squarely even, I should leave now. Can't linger for days Lambert, it'll only get worse."  
"Why?" She had just fucking spelled it out but he asked the question without thinking. "Cause I'm a witcher?" He sounded a bit defeated because if he could've changed that he would've done it ages ago. "Your arm ain't even close to-"  
"Surpressants won't last much longer than tomorrow. Alpha remedies are short term, burn fast. I'd rather be on-" She was fast to cut him off but Lambert was faster.  
"I'll lock you in your room if you're worried you can't keep your hands to yourself. Malo you need a few days to heal. I won't . . ." She always snapped when something sounded like an order so he rephrased. "Don't want you traveling the killer hurt." Honestly he didn't want her going down there alone fresh as fucking daisies. He had seen Wryen on their way up and the air was getting thick, ready to snow, they'd been flying lower to the ground, within snatching range.  
"I am not good at a lot but keeping my hands to myself is one of my sharpest skills." That was true enough, from day one that had been all she cared about, no touching.  
"Then I don't see the fucking problem."  
"My scent, it'll be back in full. Your nose is sensitive so I know you can still smell it even now."  
"Mint." He nodded and fought his head not to linger on it. "So? Malo I promised I won't touch you. Meant it." Did she think _he_ couldn't keep his hands to himself? Course, it was a known fact how needy and insatiable omegas were, empty holes craving to be filled. He _had_ just sped to her nude, handling his junk with more purpose than was respectable.  
"It makes you angry, my scent. I like you Lambert, I don't want you to be angry." And fuck if that sentence didn't break Lambert's head so hard he dropped his dick, he might've caught her looking before he could hide it but he let it go, she was patient not a priestess.  
"Ain't you. I'm always angry."  
"Angrier when there's mint in the air."  
"Ain't like that" He shook his head. ' _Less angry. Haven't shown it, can't say it. Mint makes me less angry. Weak.'_ He let that thought tumble around in his head. "Maybe I like being angry." That was the only way to explain why he was torturing himself like this.  
"That's confusing as shit."  
" _Witchers_ are confusing as shit." And they could both chuckle at that.

"Well this is progressing faster than I thought." Jaskier had been heading to the bath, just a loose robe over him, yet he turned in the direction of the pair. Lambert saw it, Malo taking two steps back. She was more afraid of the bard than she was of him. Jaskier was a friendly human and Lambert was an asshole of a witcher in what plane of existence did that make sense?  
_'He did fucking shoot her.'_ That would do it. "Promised you Marshmalo no one will fucking hurt you here."  
"You _did_ say that." There was wobble in her voice, she didn't believe him. That's why she was clawing at the gate to get out. Well that couldn't stand. He needed to prove her wrong, he was an asshole but he didn't skirt obligation, if he said she was safe, she was fucking safe. He had a plan but for it to work he needed two things, reinforcement and time, Malo had the later in her clutches. "Didn't fix your bagged rain yet. If you leave fore it's done . . . I ain't traveling all the way down the trail to return a toy." She was practical, she'd listen to reason.  
"Bagged rain?" Jaskier was out of the loop.  
"Stress ball." Malo clarified. "Well how long will it take you to fix it? You've had it for days now." She was smiling, more importantly teasing, which meant tolerating, so he pushed.  
"All of tomorrow?"  
"It will take you . . . _All_ of tomorrow . . . To sew a stress ball?" She really wasn't dumb.  
"Gonna . . . Modify it, make it better, will be worth the wait." He was sure his rear cheeks must've been flapping cause he was talking purely out his ass. "Cut me some fucking slack Marshmalo. Winter's supposed to be my time to be lazy."  
"So you're not normally this lazy?"  
"I-" He must've looked ready to shout because she cut him off.  
"Alrigh Berty." She was so fucking patient for him. "Leaving first thing the next day."  
"Fine."  
"My first thing in the morning not yours."  
"Fucking fine. Bring your shit back upstairs till then?"  
"Sure."  
"Marshmalo?"  
"Yes?"  
"Legs ain't broken. Eat dinner with us?"  
"I . . . Maybe. Hedge your bets, wear some pants?" She was going somewhere with a little less free hanging genitalia.

"Bard!" Lambert had both the man's shoulders in his hands.  
"Lambert!"  
"I need your fucking help."  
"Poetry? Courting tips? While bravado is nice, streaking is generally perceived as a hair too forward, might I-"  
"I need you to lay your ass in every bed in the keep."  
" _Because?_ " If Jaskier's eyebrows rose any further the bard could finally claim he had back hair.  
"Because I can't fucking tell which one feels warmer for a human. Can smell fucking rain half a day early but . . . My body just aclimates too fucking-" The bard had begun to make snoring sounds. "It's important, please? I lied and I want to . . . Undo it."  
"You've known her a week and you're already lying to the poor girl? I mean I did stretch the truth about a few things when I first met Geralt. But thing of it is you witchers just live such interesting lives and I need to keep up so-"  
"If I gave less of a shit about that I'd be dead Jaskier. Will you do it or not?"  
"I was _going_ to take a bath." For someone who loved getting got, the bard equally loved playing hard to get.  
"What do you want?"  
"You haven't built a nest yet Lambert."  
"Yeah I've been fucking busy. What of it?"  
"I . . . Your brain moves fast, sometimes it should stop and think. I want you to build a nest, yours are better than mine. After dinner we can just stash out in there and you can tell me all about your little Marshmalo. I will brainstorm how best to win her-"  
"I don't want to _win_ her why does everyone keep saying that."  
"Because it's painfully obvious that you do?"  
"She's not a prize I just . . . Want someone to stick the fuck around and she's patient and she isn't in the market for an omega." The bard's face got all sad and mopey and . . .then he got clingy, just lose limbs climbing all over Lambert who was still very much naked. Lambert didn’t hate it though, it felt alright, Jaskier was good at what he did. It kept Lambert from moving for half a second, even egged the witcher in to lean in and scent at him a bit. The bard's scent wasn't acidic likes Lambert's, it was some sort of mix between camomile and anise, you could fall asleep or get drunk off it depending on which way he tilted. "I'll build the fucking nest alright?"  
"Then for you Lambert I will take on the harrowing feet of finding the plushest available bed in this fortress." The bard was off on his adventure.  
_'One fucking down.'_

"Pants was what I was trying to suggest." Eskel noted when Lambert returned to the bath. Lambert sat on a far step, legs wide cause it was his fucking home, if he wanted to walk balls to the breeze who the fuck was going to stop him?  
"Yeah." Lambert was fast, maybe too fast for his own fucking good. "You're the smart one. She'll like you."  
"Why do you keep pushing her at me?"  
"Eskel you should talk to Malo after dinner." Because it was a great fucking plan and it would buy him some time, he just wanted to be able to breathe, was that too much to ask for?  
"Why me? She's _your_ friend."  
"She hates you the least. Might even like you who the fuck knows?" She hated omegas yet tolerated Lambert, if his whole life was anything to go by she'd be twice as receptive to Eskel and then he'd be less likely to hear that horrible wobbling sound.  
"Has she said something? You really should know before pawning her off on someone. Lambert I don't think you've thought this through."  
"Course I fucking haven't. Not a moment's fucking rest to sit, fucking ponder and scratch my ass but she's going to leave day after tomorrow and . . . Her arm won't have healed by then and maybe if she talks to you she'll want to stay."  
"When did your heart start bleeding?" Geralt was not swayed by Lambert's argument but Geralt wasn't the witcher he needed to convince.  
"Eskel will you just fucking talk to her? She'll . . . You're decent you leant her your shirts and-"  
" _You_ leant her my shirts."  
"Just . . . If I wasn't what I am, I'd convince her to stay myself but I can't alright? So I need you to . . . Be you, she'll _like_ you." At this everyone's face got all mopey and Lambert couldn't fucking stand it. "Nevermind fucking forget it." He stood and found his way to his clothes, feeling more exposed than he liked. Really what did it matter if Malo left? Everyone left. Would he get over it? No. He'd be bitter about it for decades. It would just add more fuel to the fire, he'd stay angry, which was better than weak even if meant no room for humble, thankful, happy.  
"Listen we just . . . If she was your friend or . . . Whatever she is to you, she shouldn't hate part of you. A friend likes all of you even the parts that make you an asshole."  
Eskel was speaking softly like  
Lambert was soft and frail, he fucking wasn't. If his brother was going to underestimate him perhaps Lambert could exploit that, teach him not to do it again. So he picked his plan up where he had dropped it.  
"I'm sure she'll like all of you Eskel. Did you see how she looked in your shirts?" He hung up on that cause if seeing her in his shirts had half the effect on Eskel that seeing her in his jacket had on Lambert, that was a fucking selling point.  
"Cute as that may have been, she doesn't seem all too interested in a companion Lambert. She doesn't want to be touched she's made that clear. I really don't think-"  
"She let me sew her up." And no one looked mighty swayed by that so begrudgingly he presented more evidence. "She leaned up against my back on our way up the mountain."  
"Selacious." Geralt snorted.  
"Fuck off." Lambert snapped because Geralt was working against him, not because he was a bit over protective about that moment. "Point is yeah she doesn't want to be touched and don't fucking touch her or I'll have to stab you I promised."  
"You promised to stab me?" Eskel was confused but what else was new.  
"Point fucking is! She might let you touch her if she trusts you. She can't trust you if you don't fucking talk to her!" His chest fucking hurt because this tedious conversation was making his blood pressure rise. Not because she would likely trust Eskel a lot more than him, she'd touch him a lot more, he didn't give a fuck about that.  
"You've heard Lambert Negotiate before haven't you Eskel?" Right Vesemir was still alive and of course he had something to add, he always had something to add or pry at, always saw all the flaws in Lambert's logic and felt the need to parade them around because he knew best.  
"I've heard him . . . Try not to threaten." Threatining was negotiating the way Lambert saw it, if people wanted to live they'd see it his way.  
"A witcher is a lone hunter - but even a lone hunter can use a helping hand sometimes." Had Lambert not just asked for help? What would rewording it and saying slower do?  
"I'm not hunting her. Don't want an alpha she doesn't want an omega." A friend, was it this fucking hard to hold a friend? Was all this shit worth it?  
"No. You're not, I'm glad you're realizing that." Lambert didn’t know what the fuck that meant. He wasn't going to ask though, he had no time for the lecture that would surely shake loose.  
"And if I don't like her?" Eskel with the questions again.  
"You . . . She's like me. You like _me_ right?" That was a question Eskel couldn't rightly answer and so Lambert won by default.  
"I . . .this will either work out well or blow up in all our faces." Eskel gave a weary sigh.  
"This is Lambert we're talking about those have always been the only two option." The old witcher chuckled to himself.  
_'Cause he's got their fucking respect and I don't that's what makes the difference.'_ Lambert was used to eating crow though, he could take the dent to his pride.  
"So?"  
"What does she . . . Like to talk about?"  
"Fuck." All Lambert knew was she liked to laugh but Eskel hadn't told a joke in the decades he'd known him.

He really didn't want to have to eat pearl onions, that's why he was so fucking relieved when Malo did come down to eat with them, that and it would make switching out her bed during an extended piss break that much easier. "Look at you pants _and_ a shirt, to the tens what a gentleman." She was teasing, tolerating, dinner would be good, better, that's why he smiled. He shoveled those slimy gems right onto her plate as soon as she sat down. She was laughing cause she found everything he fucking did funny and he decided that was fine, you can't be hurting if you're joking so as long as she was laughing they were safe from hurt, that was her quen, he'd fucking take it.  
"So Malo Geralt tells me you live in an invisible house at the bottom of the mountain." Jaskier loved company which was in scarce supply in Kaer Morhen.  
"Yup." She nodded as she speared some onions.  
"Care to elaborate on that? Likely has an interesting story to it."  
"Not really."  
"Not really interesting or not really willing to elaborate?"  
"Both."  
"Geralt thinks you may be a sorceress or have commissioned one."  
"No."  
"To both I assume?" Jaskier was pouting.  
"Yes."  
"Is this some sort of punishment?"  
"No." Malo chewed a bit but finally strung together a sentence. "What would I be punishing you for? I'm not-" Whatever she was going to say it seemed she figured wasn't worth saying and stopped, her eyes dropping to her plate again.  
"For you know . . . Shooting you?"  
"Don't blame you for shooting at me. I Get it." She didn't look up just shrugged.  
"You do? I really didn't know you and Lambert were friends I wouldn't have shot you had I known."  
"Ok." She sounded a little like she didn't believe him but also wasn't willing to care too much about it, much more focused on staring down at her dinner.  
"I . . . I'm sorry I don't quite understand."  
"Welcome to my life." Eskel let out a heavy sigh.  
"If this isn't because of the shooting, why . . . Don't you want to talk us . . . Get to know us? Is it because I'm an omega? Are you afraid I'll-"  
"Not afraid." Malo flared a bit, because alphas weren't allowed to be afraid it simply wasn't what they were made for. Her side glance landed on Lambert and she looked . . . Betrayed? She hadn't told him it was a fucking secret. Though he didn't like when his weaknesses were flaunted, it was understandable.  
"Leave it Jaskier." This was not helping his fucking case.  
"No. I am sorry if you've been hurt by omegas in the past but I assure you neither me nor Lambert are like that and you shouldn't hold it against us. I've met a fair share of alphas that were . . . Well monsters if I'm being frank. Even related to a handful, yet I'm not holding it against you."  
"You are . . . Everyone does." Her grip on her knife tightened then it just fell. "You just . . . Have self restraint." Malo seemed . . . Gone, somewhere far, somewhere cold that's why Lambert wanted to wrap her up in his Jacket.  
"First time anyone's claimed that." Geralt scoffed, hand rolling up around Jaskier's neck.  
"You don't know me well enough to make that inference." Jaskier wasn't a fighter, he paled at blood, bruised like a peach but fuck if the bard would rest his jaw, he'd debate your ears raw.  
"That's the idea." Malo debated bizarrely, always conceding and the oddest point.  
"I'm sorry?"  
"It's nothing personal but I don't want to know you well. Don't want to be friends."  
"You made friends with Lambert." The witcher should have felt mildly insulted by the bard's tone but Lambert was distracted, he wanted to hear Malo's response to that.  
"That was . . . Not on purpose." A mistake just like everything else in his fucking life, yet this was different, still a mistake, always a mistake but a . . . Was there such a thing as a good mistake? She didn't say she regretted it, or was working to fix it. Just that it had been a mistake and that was the state of things.  
"You have people trying to be friendly and you don't want to even give it an attempt?"  
"I wasn't meant for friends . . . Lambert?"  
"Yes?"  
"Finish my meal?"  
"You mean fucking start it? You haven't had any of the roast. Look you-" He barked because he wasn't really thinking about food. What had she meant by that? Meant for friends? Was that a thing? Were there people not meant for friends? That would explain a lot, such as why he was so fucking lonely.  
"Pass it over." Eskel spoke up, his brother was stealing his shtick, he was the selfish asshole. That's why Lambert was glaring at the plate that was slid over to his brother.

Eskel wasn't selfish, he was observant and fucking considerate. He watched as Eskel began to cut the slab of meat into cubes. _'Her fucking arm._ ' She hadn't been able to eat it, rotating her shoulder to move the knife hurt and she had given up quickly.  
"I can do that myself." Malo flared again, she was self reliant stubbornly so, Lambert could commiserate. She'd broken a fucking bolt and ripped it out of her own shoulder, of course she found this demeaning, insulting.  
"Could. Noises you were making was ruining my appetite so I'll do it." Eskel spent his whole life round prideful witchers, he knew how to work around egos. This is when, if it was Lambert, he'd reply that Eskel's appetite was none of his fucking business and Eskel could move if his dainty ears couldn't take it. Malo wasn't the same level of asshole though, didnt have the years of practice, that and she was patient as shit, even with patronizing.  
"Fine." She let him finish and took the plate when it was passed back.

"So are we expected to eat in awkward silence for the remainder of the winter?" The bard with nothing if not persistent.  
"Do you plan on dying tomorrow?" Malo's statement was casual as anything, between a shovel of food, the growl that came from Geralt was anything but.  
"What do you mean by that?" It was dark and lumbering, protective, it dominated the very air. Everyone flinched, everyone but the other alpha in the room.  
"I didn't mean to imply I'd hurt your omega." Everyone could see how the hold on Jaskier's neck never broke, it was firm as it could be without hurting.  
There was a pause, a long pause. Malo seemed to be taking in the room for the first time. "I'll only be here a day more. Unless silence litteraly kills you, it won't be all winter." She shrugged and went back to eating.  
"Do you even know my name?" The bard's pout was working it's way into a scowl. "Allow us the common courtesy to introduce ourselves before you decide we're not worth your time!" Jaskier stood an Malo finally flinched, it was gone in a flash but everyone saw it, even Jaskier who promptly sat back down. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my-"  
"It's fine." Malo was eating like her food was still alive and about to run off her plate. "Self restraint isn't boundless. This is your home. If you want to introduce yourself I'll listen. I just figured it'd be a waste of time I don't intend to-"  
"Hey Malo?" Lambert hated every aspect of every minute that had passed in what seemed like ages and if it didn't stop soon his head would pop.  
"Yes?"  
"Finish your plate I need to ask you something." That rule applied to everyone, you ate what was put in front of you. His toes tapped impatiently as she stuffed her cheeks like a chipmunk.  
"Dne." Malo didn't want to be here, not the table, not the keep, not circled by wolves.  
"Come on."

"Slow the fuck down Lambert!" He was faster angry and fuck if he wasn't furious.  
"Here." He opened the door to his room.  
"No." Malo shook her head, no fear, he wasn't touching but likely no more patience left after galloping to catch him.  
"Fine." He leaned heavy and awkward against a wall. He wasn't looking forward to this, he wasn't a liar but the truth at the tip of his tongue tasted bitter. He was going to just say it, he wanted her to stay a while, she didn't have to do shit, no one would touch her, just stay, be patient, that's all he wanted from her. "Look-"  
"I know it seemed like I was being a bitch to your friends but Lambert you've-"  
"Fucking seemed like?"  
"Fair." Malo had that twisted smile of being bested and Lambert was allowed to stare at his victory.  
"Not my friends. Brothers."  
"They . . . You're related?" Malo seemed confused which was fair, seeing as what he said was bullshit they told each other to make them feel less like a loose group of orphans which was exactly what they were, had been for years.  
"What runs through my blood runs through theirs." That's what was said to make the word 'brothers' seem all that much more real. "Not the bard he's-" Lambert had no fucking clue what the bard was.  
"A brother in law?"  
"Close enough."  
"And the older-" She stopped because she was asking questions, getting to know them and she had just dug in her heels on her perspective on that.  
"Vesemir. He's-" He wasn’t his fucking father, Lambert had been cursed enough to remember the asshole that sired him. He wasn't a brother, no Vesemir snatched up those loose orphans, pet the good boys kicked and called out the mistakes. "Has the deed to this dump." Lambert didn’t want to think on it anymore. "Let me say what I was going to say alright?"  
"Out with it then." She snorted and somehow her rushing him calmed his nerves slightly.  
"I . . . Was stalling."  
"Yeah no shit Lambert you've been stalling since you-"  
"Let me get a fucking word out will you?" That's why he was angry, she kept cutting him off, it wasn’t anger feeding on fear, he wasn't afraid of her response to what he had to say. "I wanted you to stay longer."  
"Why? Did you finally figure out what you wanted from me?" He wasn't snarling anymore, why was she scared? Was the thought of being near him terrifying? Did she still think he'd break her rule? The weakest part of him was allowed to imagine it, but fuck he wouldn't act on it, that had to count for something. He'd keep that shit buried where it belonged. Close, he was so fucking close to saying that they never had to touch but he wanted- "Lambert?"  
"For Eskel."  
"I . . . What?" Malo seemed absolutely baffled and that was fair, he had decided to flake on the truth at the last moment because they hadn't joked in a while and that meant hurt was coming, it was best to stick to the plan. "I've had worse friends." What were enemies if not friends more inclined to stab you?  
"Thanks?"  
"I'd like . . ." So close, so fucking close. If she said no though, took that chance at comfort away he'd get angry, angrier, he couldn't bear being _more_ angry, his skin would catch fire. "Eskel is a nice guy." If she said no to Eskel he'd be less let down, it'd hurt less.  
"I'm sure he is." Gods if she wasn't patient.  
"Talk to him?"  
"Lambert I'm not-" She wasn't scared, she was getting angry. Which was worse? Scared, scared was worse because she was scared of _him_ , because of what he was. So angry was better, he pressed.  
"He won't touch you I fucking promise. Just . . . You're fucking patient with me be patient with him? Listen to him? He . . . Could use someone and there ain't many options up here." That wasn't lying so this conversation was going fine, better.  
"I told you Lambert I don't want more friends. I came to these mountains to be left alone."  
" _No_ you said you came to the middle of nowhere because you didn't want to touch anyone or be touched." His ears worked just fucking fine thank you very much. "You can have that here. Just asking you to talk to him a bit, hands free. If he tries to bend your rule just. . . You got lungs on you. Told you I'll fucking stab everyone as many times-" Eskel wouldn't, fuck Eskel was better with rules than Lambert but it was him who had promised that no one would touch her, it was his job to enforce that, he wanted her to know he wouldn't be lazy when it came to that.  
"You must really care about your brothers." She sounded sad which was worse than angry, just a bit better than scared, so he pushed but lightly.  
"Sorry bastards are all I have." He shrugged. "Stay . . . Till you can't stand us?"  
"What about your nose?"  
"My nose?"  
"I know you want to give your brother someone to talk to but mint and you don't mix."  
"Just . . . Will take some getting used to, I'll get used to it." He wanted to get used to it, that was the whole fucking point. "I promise to yell less."  
"Lambert I haven't known you long but I've known you long enough to know you can't promise that."  
"Fuck says I can't?" Literally everything about him. "Give . . . Us a chance? Eskel will say it better. He talks better than I do. Talk to Eskel?" He got a bit redundant because he wasn't listening to what he was saying, his throat hurt, his ears rang and it was making standing still unbearable.  
"Stop being such a nag Berty. You're much better at being an asshole." She was teasing, tolerating. He let out a sigh of relief. His plan was working, why did he feel like shit? Best not to think about it, keep going, slowing down was a mistake, faster, harder, all the way to the finish, he didn't want to come up short yet again.  
"Best." He came to a dead stop. She was looking at something, a smile on her face. He turned to see what was so fucking interesting. "Told you I made better nests."  
"Couldn't be much worse."  
"Isn't done yet." Lambert slammed his door shut. "I'll show it to you when it's done. Won't have a fucking word to say about it." She hated omegas but she liked nests. _'Fucking batty.'_ If he kept his a mystery he'd have some of her interest always, she'd have to pay attention even if she wound up wanting to spend most of her time with Eskel. "Look, not touch." He didn't want her to get the wrong impression, he very much still did not want to be claimed, he wasn't looking for an alpha just a friend. Where his head went when he got weak, that wasn't him, wasn't her, wasn't real.  
"The best." She smiled at him hands up in the air.  
' _Fuck._ ' She might not be meant for friends but she was perfect for him.

"So Geralt's busy pacing the whole keep. Grumbling about what you've done." Jaskier had joined Lambert in his nest in progress, making himself comfortable ontop of the witcher, laying out on him like a comfortable lounge chair.  
"Yeah? What else is knew?"  
"He is concerned about her." Jaskier was rubbing into Lambert's neck and fuck if it wasn't calming Lambert to the point he could hear himself think.  
"Won't hurt anyone." Lambert yawned. "Won't touch anybody. He's got his panties in a knot cause mint's a new smell. A strong smell." A smell Lambert could get used to. Once Geralt saw she wasn't a threat he'd come around. Alphas always sized each other up a bit before letting their guard down.  
"Thinks she'll drive a wedge between the wolves."  
"How's that?"  
"You like her."  
"So?"  
"Like _really_ like her. Let her call you Berty, you never let me call you Berty." Jaskier teased fine, it was because he was tired that Lambert didn’t smile more.  
"I don't _really_ like anyone dandelion. Pay for a fuck when I need it-"  
"Sex isn't everything in a relationship."  
"Rich coming from you."  
"So you really _do_ just want a friend?"  
"Finally!"  
"Alright. But she likes or will like Eskel? What's that about?"  
"You don't hear em?" Lambert sure as fuck could. He could hear Malo's laughter clear as anything, she was loud as fuck. They were talking about him, which made sense he guessed, they didn’t have any other shared interests yet and Malo found Lambert endlessly funny, Eskel couldn't make jokes so it was a smart tactic. "If she stays I'll-" It was just Jaskier, he was an omega he'd understand that her scent made him calmer, less angry and the fact that she didn't want an omega made that safe to indulge in, she wouldn't pounce on his weakness. "Be less of an asshole." He shrugged. "She wouldn't stay just for me though." He sounded sad because fuck that made things complicated, made him have to work during winter, not because the thought actually saddened him.  
"Did she say that?"  
"She tolerates me, want to keep it that way. You stay for people you like not just tolerate. They'll get along better, everyone's fucking happy." Jaskier had replied to that statement but Lambert didn’t hear it. All he heard was Eskel all he heard was her name.  
". . . Marshmalo?" Was she going to snap at him? Or tell him not to use nicknames like she had with Lambert? Make him earn it? Prove he was better? No she was just laughing and fuck Lambert's plan was working perfectly, why the hell did he feel so bent out of sorts? He didn't listen quite as hard anymore, just focused in and held at Jaskier, let comfort come, let camomile put him to an angry sleep.

In his dreams though, in an even better nest, it smelled of mint and she called him Berty, she cuddled up to him and she wasn't scared or sad or even angry. She just staid, because in his dreams he could be the right type of person, someone you didn't just tolerate but liked, staid with, kept didn't disown or trade out. Worth having, worth keeping, not a mistake. It was probably Jaskier's tongue too close to his ear again as he slept but fuck if it didn't feel like teeth.


	5. So close to what's so far

"I'm not going to serve all your meals like this!" Lambert was slamming his fist into her door. "Ain't fucking room service." Something wasn't right, there was no laugh, no tease back, he placed his ear closer to the door, she was in there, her heartbeat was fast, scared. _'Nightmare?'_ He turned the doorknob, he shouldn't have but he was too fast for his own good. She wasn't on the bed, she had pulled off the mattress, was laying under it.  
"Lambert stop. Please."  
 _'Me.'_ Lambert was convinced he'd grown a gag reflex just to choke on vomit. _'She's having a nightmare about me.'_ He took a step back, exited the room, he didn't want her to wake from her nightmare to come face to face with the boogeyman.  
"You promised. You fucking promised." Gods the wobble was worse when she was sleeping.  
"Whatever I'm doing . . . I fuck . . . I wouldn't." He wasn't sure why but he sat outside her door after closing it. Dreams were supposed to be escapes. Lambert dreamed, not often but he never had nightmares because real life had always been far worse than whatever his head could muster up, if he didn’t dream there was just nothing. So Malo was proof he wasn't given every last unfair curse from the gods. She smelled of burnt mint, just the edge of ashes. It fucking singed Lambert's nose that's why he was so agitated.

An hour passed when Geralt came looking for him. "What's wrong with her?" Her scent was pouring from under the crack in the door.  
"Mind your business." Lambert stood, he didn't want to explain what was happening nor did he want to hear Geralt's snide speculation.  
"I . . . Do you need something? Can . . . I don't understand . . . I don't understand _her_ but she's important to you that's all I need to know." Geralt was a witcher he'd word it any way he could not to apologize if the word sorry didn't feel right. Geralt didn't feel he was doing anything wrong, he was protecting his pack. He could however admit he hadn't been particularly welcoming. How this hall held bushels of Alphas without massive bloodshed was truly a mystery. Lambert blocked out those days, didn't want to remember names and faces, what would it do? Wouldn't make them less dead. "How can I help?" He could smell it, the pain Lambert was in. He was an omega in distress and his big alpha brother was going to try to fix it.  
"You could go _away_?" Lambert stood, his palms went out to cover the door.  
"Stop I'm sorry. I swear I'm sorry." And gods if Lambert hadn't heard those words out of his own mother's mouth, just pleading his father for forgiveness for things she didn't even know she'd done. Now Malo was doing it to, to him. His eyes clenched shut and that was a mistake, cause it just made the noise louder, made his head throb worse.  
"Hmm" Geralt heard it too. Lambert was a selfish asshole and was relieved this time she hadn't said his name, he didn't feel like having Geralt poking that hornet nest. "You know I have nightmares. Well Nenneke says their visions but-"  
"Geralt you _are_ a nightmare. _Go_ away." Lambert's head was splitting, Malo was even loud in her sleep.  
"Go ask Jaskier, he is convinced he has remedies for them. I'm asleep so I can't attest if they work or not but he says-"  
"Why don't _you_ go see Jaskier." Lambert wasn't moving.  
"Lambert I'm giving you a way to fix it . . . STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR." Geralt had a curious look on his face like he was working on some intricate puzzle. There was nothing intricate about Lambert, he was a stubborn asshole and wasn't fucking moving. Maybe his brother was right, he should move, maybe his scent was compounding the issue but fuck when was Lambert one to back down to reason?  
"Are you fucking deaf?" Lambert was taken from his mother, he wasn't going to leave Malo, that's what was driving him to ignore Geralt's shout. It was all past trauma bullshit, nothing Lambert had wanted to work through before and nothing he wanted to work through now, there was nothing else to it, nothing worth thinking about. Geralt could shout without being furious, a skill never mastered by Lambert. The look on his brother's face was odd, not amused but that look you get when working on a puzzle and a piece fucking finally slides in just right, exhausted relief.  
"Huh? Whose out there?" Well Malo was awake.  
"Just . . . Us." Lambert replied, eyes still held on Geralt.  
"Us . . . Lambert?"  
"Yeah who the fuck else would be sap enough to bring a bum like you breakfast?" He looked down, the bowl was still on the floor. "Get out from under the mattress and fucking eat something. Swear if I wasn't here-" the door whipped open behind him.  
"How did you know I was under the mattress?"  
"I'm going to go . . . _Not_ here." Geralt started walking. "Lambert?"  
"Fucking what?" He wasn't one for holding conversation, were they really going to split him between two?  
"Defending is natural but fixing is more important."  
"The fuck does . . . Nope don't fucking care." He spun back to Malo. "I didn't fucking touch you I . . . Here." He held out the bowl as some stupid peace offering.  
"Thank you." She took it but her voice wobbled.  
"You do that a lot? It's fucking weird." Lambert wanted the attention off him desperately. Atleast Malo wasn't looking at him like some fucking puzzle.  
"Sometimes. It's basically a nest." Right, she hated omegas but liked nests.  
"Alphas don't nest alone." He stated flatly.  
"I don't know about that." She was smiling and he had no fucking clue why. "I have a nest just a murderous trail away, unoccupied and waiting for me."  
"I . . ." Well fuck he wished it wasn't so shit now. He thought about offering for her to stay in the nest he was building but he wasn't going to get kicked out of his own fucking room.  
"Should be happy Lambert."  
"For what?" She was hiding under beds, from some phantom version of him and he was too much of an asshole to comfort her, what was there to be happy about?  
"I have odd preferences and claiming a conquest is not one of them." She was smiling but in an weird way, her lips were twisted but Lambert didn’t feel victorious.  
"Why?"  
"Because why would I want to give permission to someone to . . . It's a two way street Lambert."  
"You wouldn't want them to touch you." He watched her lip twist even more awkward.  
"That's the ticket." It unraveled into a regular readable smile eventually. "So . . . Thanks for breakfast?" Things were growing awkward, stale.  
"You're just going to hide out in your room?"  
"What else would I do?" Well fuck if that wasn't a good question, what would she do here? The witcher's had training and general upkeep to break up getting blackout drunk, what could she do all winter?  
"You could . . . " She wouldn't want to be left alone with Jaskier, she was afraid of him. "Like books?" Their library was big, that could keep her entertained and out of trouble.  
"Lambert I'm _fine_. Go . . . Be with your brothers. You've done enough."  
"Don't go back to sleep . . . Er take a fucking bath atleast." She smelled of ash blood and Eskel's shirts, it was offensive on many levels.  
"Which are where?" Her smiled twisted the way it should and he started an appropriate amount.  
"Helpless." He sat against the far wall. "Well eat then I'll fucking show you." They sat and spoke and laughed because he was fucking hilarious and Malo liked to laugh. One small part of him was right and fuck what a feeling that was.

"Lambert hold up!" It was Jaskier running after him.  
"Fucking what?" Lambert groaned, he had be making his way to the gate, planning to see the pond, planning to have a moment alone. He hadn't been alone all winter and it was getting on his nerves.  
"Here." It was a box of . . . Junk, half burnt sage, a totem to gods that didn't exist, a pretty enough looking crystal but that's all it was, nothing enchanted about it. Why was Jaskier handing it to him?  
"Early start on spring cleaning? Want me to throw it in the deep end?"  
"What? No! It will help with Malo's nightmares."  
"Then give it to her not me." Why was he being saddled with this shit?  
"It'd mean more if you gave it to her."  
"It'd still be trash." Lambert lifted the crystal and bit on it to see if it'd crack.  
"Stop you fucking oaf." Jaskier pulled it from the teething witcher. "Plus I still spook her."  
"Have Eskel give it to her." Lambert had places to be, ponds to blow up. She would like Eskel better if he gave her a gift.  
"Esk . . . Are we still on that?"  
"Never got off it." The gate creaked behind Lambert as he waved.

 _'Fucking finally.'_ Lambert laid out in the boat he'd built two winter's back. Smack in the middle of the pond no one would yell at him, look at him funny, smell him, try to figure him out, he could be himself here. _'No one to interrupt.'_ He had properly squeezed one off early in the morning but he had been on edge, waiting for someone to barge in or call out for him. Here he could fucking relax, take his time. He even went through the effort of undoing his trousers and just let himself be lazy about it.

He had decided it was fine to fantasize about Malo, wasn’t her, wasn’t him, just his head equating the smell of mint meaning it was ok to relax, nothing more too it. In his mind she was between his knees. He had stared at her lips enough, might as well use their detailed mapping to his advantage. Over him, taking him, her nose brushing all the way up to his pelvis, scenting not ravenouslying and with fever like alphas he'd been with in the past, like it was something they were doing blindly and without focus. Maybe from the look in her eyes she was amused, happy, if nothing else focused, her eyes were squarely on him and it made him squirm anxiously but there was still pleasure there. She was smelling candied lemons, the sweetest he could be because he had let this build slow and he was starting to get slick. He waited for his head to betray him. He didn't have nightmares in his sleep but what if he deserved nightmares? What if they crept on him in the daylight? He felt her hand cup at his ass and he swallowed hard, she was going to try to turn him, mount him right then in there middle of fucking nowhere, face pressed into splintered wood. He started to pull back. She let out a wounded sound but she let him. "Turn?" It was a purr not a pressure.  
"No." He didn't want that. Did what he want matter? At very least in his fucking head?  
"Then what the fuck do you want Berty?" She wiped her lips with the back of her palm. She hadn't moved, hadn't pulled at him, she was waiting, for some fucking answer. "Want me to call Eskel to get you off?"  
"Eskel?" His head scrambled for a moment.  
"He's safe. He'd take care of things, I wouldn't hurt you." When did his maturation sessions get so fucking mouthy?  
"If I turn over will you shut up?"  
"My mouth will be occupied." And fuck it'd been a long while since he'd thought about _that_. Ever since he'd last tried it with another omega and it had been . . . Underwhelming. Just wet and wild in the worst way those words could be combined. An alpha had done it once, years ago but that was only because Lambert hadn't been adequately slick, it was for the impatient alpha's convenience not Lambert's pleasure and it went about as well as one would imagine. It ended with a fist fight, a broken door and who stabbed who first? Well Lambert did because he was fucking faster.

Still his mind went there. Lambert did turn over, because it was _his_ fucking head. There was no inherent danger of being dissatisfied or dominated, as he just proved he could change his mind anytime he liked. That and the recollection of mint had his brain a bit fuzzed. _'Odd prefernces.'_ Malo had them, maybe so could he. Again if he thought about it he felt himself posturing and presenting, but again he had hands moving, blood pumping but not a lot of thoughts were coming through. It was a faint ghosting of a touch, of a tongue, it was patient because Malo was fucking patient as anything, it was slow and it had Lambert groaning something filthy as she applied more pressure, as her fingers laced around his cock and stroked. It was all about him but it was _his_ fantasy, he _was_ selfish. He grew rushed, growled hungry and empty. She was fucking loud why couldn't he be? Maybe she liked loud. What the fuck did it matter? He could feel it, her eyes boring into the back of his skull, at every jerk of his hip, getting wider, happier, more focused on him. He felt her hand is his hair and she didn't snap his head back possessively, forcing his neck exposed nor did she pet and sooth at his scalp, it was a tight grip, but just that, having him, holding him, he didn't have to be fast, he could just stay there. Except he couldn't stay _forever_ , he was not a pillar of self restraint. He ended spilling out into a building puddle at the floor of his boat, and fuck if that didn't make him smirk, he bet Malo would've found it fucking hilarious, laughed in a way that was at him yet he somehow didn't mind. "Is the witcherer dead?" And Lambert groaned less from his throat at that. Trolls, it was fucking trolls.  
"Maded soundes like he was deading not deads. Now the witcherer is no moving. Prolly deads." The meeting of the minds went on.  
"A moment's fucking peace!" Lambert shouted at the top of his fucking lungs but it pettered out into some crazed laughter because fuck he was in a good mood. He was going to murder those trolls so they could never speak of this to anyone, but as he sailed to shore bloodlust was behind a content haze.

"Eventful day?" Malo smelled less of ash, less of blood, less of Eskel, just mint and-  
"We have real soap you know?" She smelled like lye and fuck that was harsh on his nose he couldn't imagine how pink and bristled her skin was. She was laughing because of course she was, but he was curious enough. "What?"  
"Soap he says. You are odd Berty, you sure you're not concused?" He just blinked at her for a couple seconds which probably didn't help matters. "Lambert you're bleeding." Malo hadn't asked if he was alright, though he could hear a palatable amount of passing concern in her laugh.  
"Oh yeah." His hand went to his scalp, sure as fuck, blood. "Trolls."  
"I told you Berty bombs not swords, stay away from teeth."  
"And I told you, let me do my fucking job. Don't know the first thing about trolls. It's not the teeth you worry about it's the fucking stones they throw."  
"You should leave those trolls alone. The both of you. Geralt you make friends with one more troll and they will tie rocks to you and make you one of their own" Eskel made a joke for the first time in half a century and fuck if Malo didn't chuckle from her corner. Did she do that? Could she do that? Make people funny?

His brothers were doing their best to play a game of gwent around strewn out papers Jaskier was scribbling on like a mad man. Then there was Malo at the far edge of the table reading a book on-  
"Wrong book!" Lambert snatched at a corner she wasn't touching and threw the fucker right over his shoulder.  
"I . . . Eskel suggested I read it." Though she didn't exactly go running after the page turner.  
"The fuck would you have her do that for?" It was propaganda, just fear mongering nonsense, it was witchers from a human's perspective. Why it was in the keep in the first place was beyond him.  
"She should know why we are how we are."  
"That isn't how we are!" Was it not enough that she saw the omega side of him as vile and untrustworthy? Did she have to learn to fear the abomination mutants were?  
"No but the fact that we're seen that way is why . . . We are how we are." Eskel didn't mind repeating himself, he did it often, largely either ignored or shouted over by his brothers. Lambert looked at Malo a bit torn, Eskel was likely right, Eskel was smart but what if this book gave her nightmares fangs? She didn't have to like him, just he didn't want her to be afraid. Afraid was worst.

"Girl." And Vesemir was still alive, great.  
"Yes?" She turned over her shoulder to look at the older witcher.  
"How long will you be freeloading?" Each and every witcher under two centuries old looked fucking confused.  
"If Lambert finishes my stress ball this lunar cycle. . .Soon?" That didn't sound promising. Also fuck if he'd forgotten about that stupid toy.  
"You better hope soon hits before the snow or the cycles." Well fuck Lambert twice over. He hadn't forgotten about his and Jaskier's heats, or Geralt's touch and go rut fest but maybe he'd been willfuly ignoring them and the problems they caused. Did Malo go through ruts? Of course she fucking did she was an Alpha, did they happen in winter?  
 _'Fuck.'_ Well he had about half a month where everyone was still in their right mind. Couldn't he ignore that problem till later?  
"It will." Malo retorted confidentiality. She didn't know their cycles, she couldn't smell the upcoming snow. How could she be so sure? Was she growing weary of the witchers already?  
"Secondly if you're going to lounge around my home I'd appreciate if you didn't throw our reading material around, witcher's take pride in their possessions."  
"That might have been-" Lambert could take a lecture, Vesemir would literally scold Malo to an early grave.  
"I apologize." Malo stood and picked up the book, dusting it off against her chest before placing it on the table. He didn't need her covering for him, he didn't need to be protected from big bad Vesemir but Lambert was selfish, she'd already taken the heat and if he outed her, Vesemir would just be on her for fibbing. No reason for them both to have their knuckles swatted. He still gave her a questioning look and her eyes were off and cold again, she was somewhere else in her head. Lambert didn’t like that look, gave him the creeps, she looked half dead when she stared into space like that.  
"Thirdly-" At this she gave _him_ a questioning look and Lambert just shrugged. Wait till she heard fithly. "You need to pull your weight so long as you're here. Do you have any skills? Any at all?" And fuck if that didn’t make the hair on the back of Lambert's neck stand up, made him angry, because he knew what it was like to have the old fencing instructor pull you cross the coals, call you out for being a waste of space. He saw Malo's eyes grow dimmer, fuck if she cried Vesemir would throw a fucking parade.  
"She can cook fine. Not sure with one fucking arm-" Oh gods he could see the carrots now.  
"Then you'll cook."  
"Do you not see the sling old man?" Lambert was sure he had mentioned it but who listened to him? Certainly not Vesemir.  
"Then she aught to get started now. Dinner will take twice as long one handed."  
"And if I refuse?" Malo sounded angry, she hated orders, demands, fuck she must hate the air Vesemir breathed.  
"Then soon has come." Vesemir wasn't angry but he wasn't budging. Malo rapped her fingers long the table, pondering the ultimatum. Alphas usually didn't take kindly to being strong armed.  
 _'Fuck.'_ She'd leave, he could not save this, there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would change anyone's mind in the moment. He could smell mint dissipating from the air. She was standing, but her mind was still working, thinking. _'Push.'_ She was uncertain and if he pushed she would stay, he simply didn't have anything left to push with. He had been close to comfort, no wonder Vesemir felt compelled to rip the rug from under him.  
"Well soon can't come earlier than first thing in the morning." Malo's lips twisted like they had been bested but he hadn't done shit. "Telling you Berty, bagged rain better be worth it." She walked over to Vesemir and followed him into the kitchen.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Lambert let out all the air he'd been holding in his lungs.  
"I know _I_ felt a bit out of place here without something to do. Maybe it is him . . . Welcoming her? Are you going to do anything about that head wound of yours?" Jaskier was in charge of keeping Kaer Morhen tidy despite the active and sometimes spiteful effort of the wolves.  
"Yeah Vesemir's a one man welcoming committee." Lambert sneered as he sat.  
"So? Let's see it." Eskel looked interested which was a rare look for him. Eskel just always seemed accepting, not anticipating, not reacting just almost existing.  
"See what? My head wound?" Lambert did lean his head a little towards Eskel and his brother did seem to inspect it to make sure no skull was showing then shook his head no.  
"This bagged rain. She's been waiting for you to fix it. Improve it?" Eskel sounded skeptical. "Need some help?"

"Is it supposed to be so . . . Empty?" Geralt was poking at it. The men were all staring down at this pitiful bag of sand. It wasn’t Lambert's fucking fault, some of the stuff had fallen out on their way up the trail.  
"Stress balls are normally firm. You're supposed to squeeze them when you're tense." Jaskier knew what this toy's function was.  
"Easy fix. We fill it with dirt and sew it shut. I just won't break it again." Lambert was not one for innovation but fuck if he couldn't think on his feet.  
"And how is that _better_?" Eskel with the fucking questions.  
"Alright what's _your_ bright fucking idea?"  
"Could . . . Put petals into it. She likes flowers, she gardens. It would smell better?" And fuck Lambert didn’t know Malo liked flowers, that she had a garden. Why hadn't she listed that as a skill she had? She could be doing something she liked instead of something she did to keep herself alive. They had a proper green house here, he wouldn't have to prune fucking herbs if she did. Why did it make him sneer that Eskel knew it and he didn't. Of course she told Eskel, she _liked_ Eskel, _talked_ to Eskel. All they did was shout at each other.

Well it was full but it was . . . "Sad." Geralt was poking at it again like some kitten with yarn.  
"Oh great white wolf what do you fucking suggest?" Lambert's best idea was still dirt so he didn't have much room to gripe, yet Lambert was an asshole so gripe he did.  
"I got some silver shavings left over from my last hunt. Bit heavier. Ever gets a ghoul come too close she could always throw it at them." Geralt's mind was constantly on the job, why wouldn't he turn her toy into a weapon.

"It's supposed to bounce." Lambert threw it into the air and tried to bounce it off his wrist like he'd seen Malo do, it just thudded against his skin and onto the floor.  
"Is she using it right?" Jaskier seemed confused. Lambert did remember her saying she played with her toy differently than it's intended use. That made Lambert smile when he thought about it, cause Malo was quirky and crafty and didn't fit into boxes. Every boxed human he ever met was . . . Awful.  
"Uses it however the fuck she wants." That made Geralt grin and Lambert rarely said anything that made Geralt smile so he was a bit dumbstruck. Even more so as Geralt took out some of what he had put in, _listening_ to Lambert. He was so distracted that he didn't notice Jaskier's hand come up to his head. He certainly fucking noticed when the bard pulled some hair straight out from the root.  
"The fuck was that for?" Lambert growled, giving the bard a shove, fully confident that Geralt would catch him, which he did.  
"Well I'm not going to use _my_ hair. Relax yours is already trying to crawl back into that widows peak of yours."  
"Why are you using _any_ hair?!" Lambert snaped as Jaskier packed the strands in the pouch.  
"Hair is bouncy. Makes sense right?" It sort of did, not enough to tear at him though.

An idea hit Lambert, of how to modify it, make it better, an idea that wasn't fill it with fucking dirt so he went with it. "Jaskier where's that box of junk you were trying to shill at me?"  
"It's not junk. It helps!" Jaskier pouted, looking over at Geralt for affirmation.  
"It is junk." Geralt pulled the bard by the waist into his lap, kissing him fondly. "You help." Geralt hummed into a deeper kiss.  
"Before you fuck right here and now, the box?" The couple had a tendency to deftly distract one another.  
"Right." It was in no way practical and in all ways purposeful the way Jaskier spun in Geralt's lap, grinding into him before seductively sliding out.  
" _Today_?"  
"Take notes Lambert you might need them some day."  
"Yeah the next endrega queen that requests a lap dance I'll be sure to praise this moment." Lambert rolled his eyes.

"I don't think they'll fit." Jaskier watched as Lambert dumped out the box's contents onto the table.  
"Sure they will." Lambert smirked removing a boot, proceeding to slam it's heel right over the assorted trinkets.  
"You truly are a foul hearted beast Lambert." Jaskier noted flatly as they watched sage stone and sandlewood get ground into ruble, Jaskier would be sweeping dust for days. Lambert's stitches, big and uneven closed it off. It didn't look . . . Right or pretty but- "Bounces." That had to count for something.  
"She'll love it." Jaskier crooned. Lambert frowned, he really wished it looked fixed and a little less lumpy. He was far less confident than the bard. He gave the ball a squeeze and one it didn't burst under his grip and secondly maybe he did feel a little less stressed. _'Better.'_ He smiled to himself.

"Is it . . . Bad?" Malo had noticed the circle of expecting eyes and scowls being shot around the table, she assumed it had to do with her meal prep.  
"Are there any vegetables left in the cupboard?" Lambert teased because that was right, normal.  
"In a pinch it's fine. It's winter, boys are more used to fuller servings is all." Vesemir was ever the critic.  
"Right. Breakfast will be bigger." Malo nodded. "Turnip porridge?" Lambert's face went pale till he noticed she was teasing back.  
"Malo?" Jaskier had to be the fucking one to break the circle of silent glances.  
"Yes?" Lambert hadn't really noticed before, how the corners of her eyes opened a bit wide, almost surprised when they said her name, he only noticed it now because when Vesemir called her girl there was no such pop.  
"Lambert has-"  
"Eskel wants to show you the green house before it's windows frost over." Lambert had a plan it was working fucking great, he had to keep at it.  
"I could . . . Go for a walk." Eskel gave up on being confused he was now rolling with the punches, finally hopping on board with this flawless plan. Maybe even liked Malo, cause of course the fuck he would.  
"Alright." Malo gave a weird smile that Lambert hadn't mapped to an emotion quite yet. He had one emotion, angry and here was Malo asking him to divine weird fucking smiles. Maybe that was her fond smile. Maybe Eskel was growing on her. Lambert's plan was coming together as he watched Eskel and Malo leave the table, he could relax. His stomach felt knotted. Why couldn't he relax? Fuck had he _forgotten_ how to relax?

When morning came Lambert woke with a stir because he was an idiot who had forgotten how to relax and his sleep had been shit. There was too much light coming into his nest. _'Fuck.'_ He had slept in. It became clear why when he opened the door, hit him straight in the face. _'Mint.'_ It was a long lingering odor. _'What was she fucking pacing outside my door?'_ Maybe she had another nightmare and wanted to chat or maybe- _'Fuck.'_ He sped barefoot to Malo's room, he didn't hear anything. _'She wanted to say goodbye.'_ A bull called Lambert ran down the stairs following her trail.  
"Lambert?" Geralt didn't sound as overbearing and protective as usual, but enough to be irritating. "What did you set on fire now?" That statement even less so, focusing back on the blade that certainly didn't need as much sharpening as the witcher put into it.  
"Did she leave?" And Lambert was at threat of losing Geralt because Jaskier had come up behind him at some point, strumming his fingers through Geralt's hair.  
"Who?" Geralt was barely listening.  
"Fucking Triss. She was dropping off an ointment for a rash on my ass. Fucking Malo!" Who, like women traipsed up and down these halls.  
"Your homewrecker went back to the green house." Geralt said with the air of a man that really felt it a chore to get those words out. "She liked it. That was a good fix Lambert."  
"Fix?" But Geralt was gone between two of his greatest loves Jaskier's fingers and sharpening swords that were already sharp.

Malo was sleeping on a bench, she was covered in dirt, just smudged head to toe but fuck if the green house didn’t look well it looked more green? Less brown? Lambert never looked at lilies twice he knew what plants would kill him and what plants would save him no need beyond that. _'Tired herself out.'_ Her breaths were big, sweeping and exhausted. He should've let her sleep but he was an asshole. "Malo!"  
"Ahhh!" He watched her flail and tumble off the bench. "Berty?" She rubbed some sleep from her eyes as she sat up.  
"The fuck are you doing here? Old man put you to work?"  
"Why are you standing outside the door like a creep?"  
"Returning the favor." Lambert took that as an invite in so he did. "Here." He tossed her the bagged rain the brothers and bard had collaborated on. "Know it don't look as pretty but-"  
"Smells . . . Nice." Well that could be the flowers, the sage, Lambert's own fucking hair he didn't know but it was a positive response so he took it.  
"You should . . . Sleep with it." He offered cause his mouth moved faster than his head.  
"Sleep with it?" Malo looked like she might laugh but didn't and that was a shame.  
"Told you I'd improve it. Should help with nightmares."  
"Are they bothering you? The nightmares I could move down the hall some if-"  
"You're staying." Lambert felt something in his chest close to relief but he had forgotten how to relax so he couldn't quite be sure.  
"In the room? Are you-"  
"You're not moving your shit up and down every fucking flight of stairs." He hadn't meant the room, he meant to acknowledge first thing in the morning passed at she had her bagged rain back and she hadn't left yet. "Talking to Eskel helped? I knew you'd like him."  
"I like him fine." Her lips twisted the way Lambert liked but we wondered if that was for Eskel and not for him, he wasn't sure if he was allowed to stare and fuck if that wasn't a shame. Lambert won so few things, he'd grown to like that view of victory.  
"Give him a nickname yet?" He smiled at the pleasing sound of . . . Well now it sounded a bit more like hail than rain but it was nice all the same. Watching it bump from elbow to elbow amusingly on top of her head once.  
"No. Think I should?" She bumped it over to Lambert who let it hit his chest then fall to the floor with a thud.  
"Just fixed it don't want to-"  
"Then be careful with it Berty."  
"I'm not careful." He was a lot of things, careful was not one of them.  
"Then try you lumox. Stick out an arm." He did and after scooping if up off the ground she placed it on the backside of his palm. "Knock it up. It's fun. Just don’t death grip it and you'll be good at it I'm sure. I've seen your-"  
"Fucking better than you already." Lambert was the self designated king of bagged hail after approximately two bounces off his wrist and once off his knee. She was laughing because he was fucking hilarious and Lambert remembered how to relax if just for a second.  
"Humble too." Malo teased. "Would you two like to be-"  
"Not fair if you don't." He had been pondering something but Lambert was easily distracted.  
"What's that?"  
"He can't call you Marshmalo less you call him something." Lambert kept his eyes on Malo's toy because he liked being the one to call her that, he didn't want to be fair or diplomatic, he wanted to stay a selfish asshole, but he wanted Malo to stay more so he went against his nature.  
"Speaking of fair. Does this mean I've got to improve something of yours?"  
"Nah you fixed me up." Lambert shrugged.  
"And you fixed me up." Malo countered. Did she want extra work? Lambert was lazy as shit, he could hawk something he didn't feel like doing onto her. "Fixed the green house. Made it better." All he wanted was mint and relaxation, she was staying, he wasn’t close, it was fucking here.  
"It's not _your_ green house."  
"The fuck it isn't. I probably know more about these weeds than you do."  
"T . . ." Her eyes went from smiling bright as anything to that fucking awful dim and Lambert wasn't sure what he did, he had to have done something. He let the bagged rain fall to the floor.  
"Wasn't calling you stupid."  
"I know." Her smile twisted at that amused yet sad angle and Lambert felt like everything was falling through his fingers. "What . . . Fuck whatever I said I'll take it back just stop looking at me that way Marshmalo." He snarled and fuck if she didn't look ready to cry. "What . . . I'll fix it."  
"You are good at fixing things." She picked her toy off the ground, a new sort of smile, something that was readily noticeable as fond.  
"Fuck right I am. So spit it out. What crawled up your cunt and died?" He had not been an asshole for six straight minutes, he couldn’t hold out for eternity.  
"Can't fix everything Berty." She was just catching and tossing the toy not willing to look at him.  
"Fuck says-"  
" _I_ say you can't. Can't fix me Berty." She was going to cry he could smell the salt welling at the edges of her eyes, but wait as long as he did, staring like an idiot, none fell, because Alphas didn't cry, they didn’t crack, they were stone. Her nose twitched and face wrinkled, her scent flared something wounded till a full toothed smile found it's way back and pushed the tears straight back into her skull. "Alright enough of that. You missed breakfast you lump. I'll make a bigger lunch." She just breezed right by him.

 _'She doesn't get to cry. Isn't allowed. Body or brain? What won't let her?'_ Lambert was envious of alphas in many ways, that had always been one of them. Humans believed witchers were stripped of emotions but that wasn't true, they were bent and bolted neutral, still felt but emotion took a backseat to neutrality. Alphas were closer to the myth, felt still, felt passionately, aggressively but never weepy emotions like fear or sadness. They had to be strong for their delicate little omegas who sighed forlorn at an unpleasant breeze. Lambert had worked hard to stay angry, to keep from getting weak. Ever chasing the passionate firm rage and confident mix held by alphas. Seeing Malo want to cry, well not want, no one wants to cry, but maybe need to cry? Yet wouldn't, knew she shouldn't so didn't. It scrambled something in Lambert's brain, his notion of what a curse all of it was. Alphas, betas, omegas, they were all messed up. _'Fuck.'_ It really was a fucking shame.


	6. Far from perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should have broken this into two chapters but didn't.

Days went and eclipsed into a week. Not much changed. Malo staid, Lambert had mint to calm his mind and his perfect fucking plan to set her up with Eskel was going fine albeit slow. Witchers didn't like change so this should've been good news but something else wasn't changing and it was making everyone tense. Malo was comfortable almost unervingly so with Lambert, she was friendly almost fond of Eskel, her interactions with Vesemir were stilted but neither one was trying all that hard. Jaskier on the other hand was trying _very_ hard, hell he had even goaded Geralt into putting his best foot forward and yet still, she wanted nothing to do with them. She wasn’t overly rude, she was in no way agressive but she would only speak when spoken to and even then they were brief one word, a sentence if really pressed, answers. Yet Lambert didn’t see the problem or rather he was a selfish asshole that had what he wanted and didn't see the need to ruffle any feathers.

A second week was hitting it's tail when something finally gave, and it was not Jaskier's persistence. It wasn't snowing heavy, just enough that outside chores had lost any small appeal they did had, which meant after training, day drinking. Day drinking usually got Jaskier in a musical mood, or a more musical mood. He was playing something jaunty and fun but each wolf was engrossed in whatever anti social activity amused them. Lambert's head only tilted up when he smelled mint get stronger. _'No sling.'_ Her shoulder had finally healed, took ages, humans were terribly helpless. Lambert smiled because it meant she would no longer ruin their meals with grumbles of discomfort. _'Headed to make lunch?'_ Yet she didn't breeze on by to the kitchen. She stepped forward then back, then to the right, followed by some odd diagonal move to the left, it was as if she was trying to get around some invisible obstacle. "Stuck Marshmalo?" He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at but it was amusing, he liked the way she swayed. _'Look better in a dress not Eskel's . . . I need to find her more clothes.'_ That's why she was bathing with lye, it was one stop shopping, a bath and laundry.  
"Huh? Oh-" She was blushing, not like she did when Lambert had run to her in the buff, something small like being caught doing something she aught not.  
"She knows it!" Jaskier's eyes blew wide and eager.  
"Knows what?"  
"A proper cintran waltz!" They all were staring between Malo and Jaskier clearly missing what made that of concequence. Malo was redder, invisible forcefield broken she began walking. "No please! No one dances in Kaer Morhen! Pleeease! You have to continue!"  
"I don't _have_ to do anything." The red in Malo's face was turning angry. "I'm not going to twirl in the middle of the hall for your amusement."  
"Well no not alone. You'd look daft. This is perfect, you can teach the witchers before spring when we're expected at Lettenhove. Geralt knows _how_ to dance. I mean he can get by but I can't play and show him proper court steps. If you think I could convince him to dance with me while out on the path you're-"  
"I said no." Malo's anger was sweeping with anxiety and her scent was turning to that awful near ash odor.  
"He won't touch you . . . You can pantomime the-"  
"I don't _want_ to!" Malo's eyes bolted shut, she was shaking. "Your whims are not my concern." Was it fear? Was it rage? Lambert couldn't tell. Humans were odd in the way they mixed emotions instead of picking one and sticking to it.  
"Leave her alone Jaskier." Lambert just wanted ash to stop choking his lungs.  
"I . . ." Jaskier's tone got soft maybe a bit hurt. "I know more words than Lambert."  
"I'm sure you do." Malo was finally exhaling, some of the red leaving her cheeks. "What of it?"  
"Whatever he said . . . To not make you not hate him . . . Fear him . . . I can say it twice as poetically. And merely because it's poetic would not mean it's disingenuous."  
"I don't. . . Hate you."  
"But you do fear me?"  
"Yes." Those words seemed to enrage her, seemed to hurt. Like her vocal cords were being plucked by hand.  
"I would never intentionally cause you distress. I know I'm forward but-" He paused for a scoff or a huff but none came, the hall was bone quiet. "I never would want to hurt you. Can't you-"  
"Wouldn't that be worse?" Malo had never sounded so sad. "Can you please just leave me be?" Never sounded so exhausted. She was walking to the kitchen.  
"Worse how?" Jaskier was fucking persistent. Malo let out a sigh, hoped for someone to save her from what she was going to say but she was surrounded by wolves not knights, no one rescued her. "If we bothered to get to know one another, became friends . . . And then you . . . Cause me distress-" It was a flowery word for hurt or touch which ever came first, whichever was worse. "It'd be worse, I'd be distressed, you'd be distressed . . . Oh how fucking distressed we'd all be." Malo's shoulders slumped in a bit defeated. "Told you, wasn't meant for friends . . . Too fragile." She sneered with a look Lambert recognized, self loathing.  
"If I caused you distress . . . I deserve a little distress all my own. Teaches one not to do it again. Like touching a hot stove." Jaskier's voice was terribly soft. Malo looked at him utterly angry, utterly confused. She opened her mouth to speak then clamped it shut. She looked over at Lambert as if he had any quality answer for her, he fucking didn't, then she walked off into the kitchen.

"You tried Jaskier." Geralt stood from his seat, wrapping his arms around the bard's waist, running his face along the curve of his neck, doing his best to soothe. "Some people are unapproachable."  
"You." Jaskier pulled a bit away, just to get some air. The bard was welling up, Lambert sneered and looked off because he was an asshole, not because he'd been warned Malo would cause a rift and here it fucking was. " _You_ love were unapproachable." Jaskier did finally reciprocate and for a moment it was soft nuzzling, comforting scents and sounds abound. Lambert would have felt imposing but they did this . . . Often. "She is-"  
"Distressed." Lambert hoped this conversation was winding down soon.  
"Who . . . Has she told you what happened?" Jaskier craned around Geralt's form to look at Lambert.  
"Omegas." Lambert shrugged, what else did he need to know? She didn't want to be pressed on it and he didn't want to lose what he had so he didn't. It was odd though. Alphas took, Alphas claimed, Alpha's impulses and desires were king or queen accordingly, how could Malo find herself hurt by omegas? It didn't sound like a metaphorical hurt, like she had been in love and had lost her mate to another Alpha. It sounded like pain enough to starve off any and all contact. Lambert knew pain, yet he still embraced his brothers, the bard, an occasional trade worker when he had coin and an urge, was it possible Malo had felt pain worse than him? _'Humans exaggerate.'_ That had to be it, if he let his mind wonder to what could be worse than a bruxa bite, worse than a spleen pierced from a dimeritium blade, worse than the trials, Lambert didn’t have nightmares and he'd like to keep it that way.  
"Eskel?" All eyes traveled one wolf over.  
 _'Did she tell him?'_ Lambert wouldn't be surprised if she had. Eskel was understanding, a good fucking listener, wouldn't downsize her pain. Yet Lambert felt something close to jealousy in his stomach which made no fucking sense so he ignored it as indigestion. ' _All those fucking vegetables.'_ Made far more sense.  
"She hasn't said. Nor do I think she intends to. I doubt it will make you feel better but she meant it, she _is_ afraid of you, she doesn't _hate_ you. Any anger you see . . . Isn't directed at you."  
"Well who the fuck is it directed at then?" Why were they pissing and moaning about this? Lambert would swear to kill whoever the fuck Malo hated, he didn't _need_ to know the details, and she could stop being so weird, nothing a little revenge couldn't solve.  
"Herself." Eskel likely knew where his brother was going with this, Lambert wasn't the most layered of witchers.  
"That's . . ." Malo wasn't stupid and he wouldn't say as such but why would she be angry at herself for hurt others had caused? Seemed backwards as shit.  
"Alphas are strong . . . When they're not strong _enough_ there's no one to blame but-" Geralt was speaking from experience when something peculiar happened, the smell of mint was returning.

Everyone watched as Malo, still looking half angry and with hands behind her back entered the room, walked right up to Geralt. _'Please don't try to stab him.'_ Lambert had his toes arched ready to sprint. Good thing he was fucking fast.  
"Don't touch me." She stated that as if clarified shit.  
"I'm not." Geralt couldn't help it, she was angry and glaring at him, he maneuvered Jaskier behind him and his chest broadened slightly. Her hand moved and Lambert stood, waiting for some sort of blood bath to ensue but it never did, she wasn't holding a dagger, it was a dish rag.  
"Grab that end." Her eyes geastured to the part not in her white knuckles. Geralt's face twisted, possibly unhappy in equal measures with her being the cause of Jaskier's turn of mood, compounded by her not asking but telling him what to do. Geralt was better than his blood though, reached out and took the other end of the rag. "A waltz is simple. Footwork and timing just like your swords." She took a step away from him. "Follow and try to step on the back of my heels." She added when Geralt stood there like a lame duck, he eventually shuffled forward. "But don't . . . You know actually do it."  
"No touching." He nodded.  
"You want your hands up, about chin level." She demonstrated and took another step that Geralt followed.  
"I know how to . . . Jaskier will you just play the damn song." The words should have been angry and they were a bit huffed but there was a smile under all that brood.  
"No quality bard would ever have that question be asked twice." Jaskier's sadness or hurt was gone, he was fucking euphoric as he started up his lute again. It was a lot, forward and back, the rag's need became clear when Malo spun under Geralt's hand but still their fingers were far and apart. Lambert was . . . Anxious? No, impatient. Jaskier had asked her to teach the wolves, which meant all of them, which meant _him_. She had critiqued his form previously, his blocking or lack there of. He would show her and her lips would twist wonderfully bested and he would stare, Lambert was eager.

"Fuck!" But Geralt was going to go and fucking ruin it, he had stepped on her foot. Pace back as many steps as he liked they all looked at Malo like she was going to smash Jaskier's lute and set it on fire. She was rigid, tense, staring down at the foot that had been squished. "Leather . . . On leather right?" Malo looked over at Lambert and he wanted his turn so he was quick to answer.  
"Not touching. You're fine Marshmalo." He nodded, he couldn’t make his mug look reassuring so he went the opposite direction. "Did it hurt? I will-"  
"Stab everyone?" She laughed, he laughed, fucking Geralt thought about laughing and the crisis seemed averted.  
"No one will hurt you here Marshmalo, I fucking promise." He leaned back into his chair. She believed him, he made sense to her, anger and all she put value into his opinions of things and that had him feeling . . . More indigestion.  
"Sorry." Geralt mumbled if only to prove witchers did know the word.

"Alright. Eskel or Lambert? Whose next? Boy are you popular Malo." Jaskier laughed but Malo's smile dimmed so he quickly amended. "As popular as you wish to be . . . We could do it one per day if you'd prefer? Or not even that, we have time." None of them quite knew her hang ups so it was hard to traverse them but Jaskier _was_ persistent.  
"I can . . . Before I have time to regret this decision."  
"That's the spirit." Jaskier had a friendly, almost thankful smile. Malo was a human she had to be able to see and decode that grin, know that Jaskier was the best intentioned trouble maker there ever was.  
"Is there a . . . Slower song?" Eskel likely was erring on the side of caution, she hadn't blown up for being stepped on once, his boots were heavy, how patient was she really?  
"A slow song for the lovers?" Jaskier was persistent to a fault, he threw Lambert eyes that were meant to be teasing but Lambert was beyond teases, he was hyper focused on replayng the steps in his head, he wanted his turn.  
"A slow song Jaskier." Eskel insisted with a groan of really wanting no part of this. This song had dips which was . . . Interesting, seeing as Eskel wasn't allowed to place his hand at her back it was all on full display how limber Malo was, how much muscle control she really had. Lambert fought to concentrate on dancing, because he was sure his mind's version of Malo would be just as flexible as she was in the flesh.  
 _'Some Alphas will lay down for omegas.'_ He knew that for a fact, when he did indulge with an Alpha that had occasionally been the case. Though those indulgences, especially with women were hard to come by, female Alphas for the most part found him- _'repugnant.'_ He didn’t know what that word meant but he remembered it being scoffed at him.  
"Berty?" Everyone was staring at him.  
"Can you call him that again? If you'd like?" Jaskier was trying to be less forward with his requests.  
"Why?"  
"It tickles me." The bard shrugged.  
"They're just jealous is all." Lambert snorted. He had a nickname, she called him that, her and no one else, she didn't call him repugnant, she called him Berty, and he liked Berty better.  
"Alright so . . . Lambert." Malo didn't always call him Berty and he liked that too, he had a fucking name. "Fast or slow?" He liked that question even better. He was fast, always fast, he was known for better and for worse for being fucking fast and not much beyond that. She still asked though, gave him the option to choose.  
"Fast. I want to get this over with." He was still Lambert, all the choices in the world and he was still an asshole. It was fucking weird, dancing without touching, chasing her heels, watching her dip and spin, so very close to him, within reach but not touching. It was weird and that's why he was staring at . . . All of her. Then just as he got into the rhythm of things, just as mint started turning to something he wasn't able to pinpoint she stopped, they stopped, her hips kept moving for a bit, shifting from side to side but even that eventually ended.  
"What?"  
"Thing about fast songs are they're done quick Lambert. Over with it." Malo smiled, all her anger or fear from earlier gone. "Next time you dance with someone, if you want it to last, ask for a slow song." Malo's crow's feather hair had spilled over her face during their, it had honestly been more or a trot than any sort of waltz, her cheeks were hidden behind strands but he could see pink at their peaks. Then Lambert's hand dropped the dish rag and hovered for a minute. When it finally moved he did something somewhat smart to avoid something definitely stupid. "Huh?" Malo was a bit blindsided by the orb coming up around her.  
"Quen. I fucking told you already."  
"Yeah." Just like last time her fingers dusted against the sign and just like last time he could theoretically feel those digits. "But. . . . Why?" She looked from her left to her right, she couldn't see any threat.  
"Because I wanted to do something that you wouldn't want . . . And I'm an asshole So I . . . You know . . . fucking Quen." He had wanted to brush that hair back behind her ear, wanted to run his thumb along that heat in her cheeks, he had wanted to kiss her. It was his head scrambling mint in his mind and real life, it was his impulse moving faster than his intuition, it was a mistake. Malo's arm went up to cover her eyes and he could smell salt, tears that wouldn't fall. "I promised I fucking wouldn't. I-" It wasn’t Geralt's foot it was Lambert's mouth that was going to ruin this moment that had been going well. ' _Mistake, it was a mistake. I'm. . . '_ He was scolding himself before Malo could.  
"Berty that is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."  
"That's sad as shit." There was likely a nicer response to that, a better response, yet Lambert couldn't be bothered to drum it up.  
"I'm-" Her arm dropped and she sniffled and squirmed all those tears back where they belonged. "Sad as shit." They were red, her eyes, burning with salt and strain, but they were . . . Smiling, happy, thankful, for fucking him, for him protecting her from himself, it was a confusing wrap around notion but aside for the red salted rim he liked that look in her eyes, wanted more of it. 

_'Fuck.'_ Was Jaskier right? Did he like Malo beyond the mint? Beyond a friend? He still wanted to kiss her, which he could equate to his heavy libido but there was a want he couldn't string straight to his dick. He wanted Malo to burry her face in his jacket that she looked so nice in and fucking sob, ruin in with salt, he wanted to let her cry and he wanted to stab anything that tried to tell her to stop, wanted to wrap her in his arms, then quen for good measure. He wanted to keep her safe. _'What Alpha would want an Omega to protect them? Not Malo that's fucking sure.'_ So now he was stuck, wanting but not having and that was going to ride at Lambert's patience which was slim at best. He went with something that felt easier than pining like a fool, omegas didn't want they gave, he went back to being angry. "If you ever . . . Want to tell me. I'll kill em. Whoever they were. Even do it the way you like."  
"Way I like?" Malo laughed despite the wobble in her voice.  
"Bombs and not swords."  
"Don't say things like that Berty I'd have you bomb the whole fucking port." Malo laughed fuller, louder.  
"Tell me where the fuck this port is and I can probably arrange that." Lambert laughed back, maybe this conversation was growing a tad morbid but everything in Kaer Morhen was a tad morbid.  
"Maybe not the whole port." Eskel warned because he was unsure how much of this was fantasy and how much of this was fire.  
"Quality not quantity." Geralt cut the difference. "Wouldn't want any to get away in the fray." He shrugged the practical assessment.

"Malo?" Jaskier had remained quiet throughout this entire exchange.  
"Yes?"  
"I . . . Think I know what port you're speaking of."  
"Oh." Malo nodded. "Don't worry I don't wish for Lambert to kill you if-"  
"I didn't. I might have if I ever . . ." Jaskier swallowed words that would've likely been illuminating as shit but the bard chose right that fucking moment to have discretion. "I won't say anything if you don't want."  
"I don't."  
"Now that I understand I . . . Well I _understand_. I just want you to know . . . Here isn't anything like that place . . . Here isn't like anywhere and Geralt has dragged me near every inch of this continent."  
" _I_ dragged _you_." Geralt snorted a dismissal but counterproductively coiled himself around the bard again, a kiss being dropped onto the bard's pulse.  
"You don't have to be scared here. You have three witchers that are willing to blow up a port to varying degrees for you."  
"I get that Jaskier-"  
"I am not saying you have to . . . You said my name." Jaskier grin was loud but his words remained soft, soothing. "Don't be scared that we'll do something you don't . . . We're jesters sure but we respect each other, no one is property here." Jaskier's palm ran up Geralt's face, maybe to prove a point, the witcher hummed in placate agreement, a deep kiss into Jaskier's neck crawling up into his lips, everything about him swallowed the smaller man, but lovingly, at no angle could it be viewed as possesive, as anything less than pure somewhat stupid devotion.  
 _'Property?_ ' That didn't make sense. Alphas owned they weren't owned. What was this port? What happened there? What did they do to Malo? How many bombs could Lambert carry if she lent him Delcot come spring?  
"And Malo?" Jaskier had been right, he had twice the words Lambert did.  
"Yes?" Her smile had staid but her eyes were a bit dim, a bit gone.  
"You don't _have_ to be sad here. Though if you want to you can." Lambert found himself nodding, still vauge thoughts floating of being able to hold her, protect her swimming in his head.  
"What I want is not-"  
"Girl?" And fuck if everyone's skin didn't crawl at Vesemir's timing.  
"Yes?"  
"The boys did their work, they're allowed some rest. What have you done lately?"  
"Vesemir while your work hard play when you're dead mantra is . . . Consistent, we're having a bit of a moment here." Jaskier tried to salvage it but everyone could tell the vulnerable air had iced over, was ruined.  
 _'Fucking old man smelled weakness and came to spit on it.'_ Lambert's own walls were building back up brick by brick.  
"Your moment can wait till after supper. Which, will not make itself." Vesemir's eyes held on Malo.  
"That it won't." Malo, mint and all left for the kitchen. The moment was ruined but Lambert felt a bit better somehow, a bit closer to . . . Well just closer to the world he'd isolated himself from.

Things changed slowly if at all in Kaer Morhen, though the fact that Lambert heard more laughter in the ensuing days than he had in years had to count for something. Yet another week had come and was ending when something else changed. "Malo came and found me." Geralt approached Lambert who had been training alone, because he wanted to be alone, he felt antsy for some fucking reason and expend energy as he did nothing helped.  
"Good for you." Couldn't Geralt see he was fucking busy?  
"Asked me not to tell you where she was going."  
"Throwing this in my face or what?" Lambert's breath was heavy, his skin somewhat. . . Not quite itchy but uncomfortable. "I can find her if I wanted to."  
"Throwing it in your face so maybe you'll want to." Gods Geralt loved his cryptic bullshit.  
"She . . . Alright?" Maybe Malo wanted to be alone, part of it was her weird no touching shit but Malo did seem to enjoy her personal space. Yet if something was wrong, or if she was growing sick of them Lambert was going to have to do what he'd been doing for weeks, fucking fix it.  
"Not sure." Geralt seemed to be pondering another puzzle.  
"The fuck does that mean?"  
"Means I'm not sure." At this Lambert threw his sword at the ground thoroughly annoyed by the vagueness of it all. "Females are different and Malo is different than most females." Lambert's eyes went wide.  
"She going through a rut?" They weren't as draining or as debilitating as a heat, not even close. If Geralt was any example it was when Alphas eyes grew larger than their cocks. Geralt would grow more agressive, more pent, starving till he released straight through to satiated exhaustion. He still kept his wits about him though, could function, never begged for things he didn't actually want, could bathe and feed himself. Geralt remained Geralt he was just . . . More. It was less noticeable since the bard came along, well more _visible_ because Jaskier never had shame and during ruts neither did Geralt, they fucked . . . Everywhere, but the mood swing accompanied by the rut, having someone to enthusiasticly help him through it, diminished greatly.  
"Not sure. She just asked me not to tell you where she was. Said we all will have to remember how to feed ourselves for a day or three." She was smart, it was wise to warn the other alpha less he get hit by her scent and have the primal part of his brain view it as a challenge. "Something I am sure of?"  
"That'd be a welcomed change." Lambert pretended to still be listening.  
"If you want to give her space fine. Do not send Eskel to do your dirty work."  
"My dirty work? I don't owe her shit. I'm not going to bend over and-"  
"We're not all animals Lambert!" Geralt clearly took offense at his statement. "Did I ever put you in headlock turn you over a bookcase and knot you?"  
"Couldn't." Lambert hissed at the implication, getting chest to chest with his brother.  
"DIDN'T." Geralt took a deep breath. "Wouldn't." His tone rumbled something protective, Lambert did believe him, Geralt at his most feral would never lay an unwelcomed hand on his brother. Even in their youth when they had helped one another it had always been . . . Safe, there was trust there. Geralt didn't need Lambert anymore, had Jaskier, deep in Lambert's core he was happy for the pair but missed that safety being _his_. Geralt and Jaskier still included Lambert in their festivities as the bard sarcastically called it but that was for pity and nostalgia sake. The whole keep even the old man had to help Lambert through his heat, to keep him from dying, killing, there was safety there, compassion even, but that was because Lambert was weak and wonky, he was wrong, every second of his heat was hell and he would drag everyone he cared about down with him, because he was angry, he was alone. "LAMBERT?!"  
"What?" He tried desperately not to think about what the days were counting down to.  
"Nor do I think Malo would." Which really must've been the truth, Geralt could and would've kept Malo's secret much better if he had even an inkling Malo would force any of herself on his packmate, his younger brother, his family. "All I'm saying is if you want to check on her, _you_ check on her. It will only . . . Make her upset to see Eskel right now."

Lambert didn’t go looking for her, he was fucking hungry so he went to the kitchen, she wasn't there. After filling his stomach he went to work on his nest because it still needed work, she wasn't in her bedroom. He could use a bath after an eventful day, no luck. He needed a book on . . . Some sort of monster, again he came up short. He went to the greenhouse next because . . . Well fuck by that point it was bothering him that he couldn't find her. She was growling, almost like an animal, maybe even a wolf if he was giving her some sort of credit, the was a groan in there, pleasured and pained, more of the later than the former. Her scent was strong, of mint and sweat, lust, overbearing and a small bit intoxicating, smelled like a minty liqueur. "It . . . Always was curious, does it hurt?" He sat his back against the door, never looking directly in, despite the glass being well and frosted over by that point.  
"You stick your dick into your kidneys then pull it out for fucking kicks!" The lust was mixed in with agitation, discomfort, rage.  
"A fucking yes or no would've done!" He shouldn't have chuckled but he was an asshole.  
"Sorry for your fucking virgin ears!" She had a chuckle in her curse too. Angry really did feel better when someone could savor it with you.  
"Just was curious . . . Don't fucking care." Some men did, maybe it made them feel small or inadequate that their partners could give as well as they got. He himself had never thought too hard on it. He'd let a female alpha take him before, it was . . . Just like any other prick. Once she had spent, like some magic trick he hadn't peaked behind the curtain to see, it was gone and he was given a turn at a cunt that was just like any other cunt. Lambert was lazy, if he thought about it that might be an ideal if he had the option to have one. Just to be able to go to one person for any itch he had.  
"Oh thank the gods! If you didn't fucking approve I'd have to rethink-" She was definitely mid rut, just so focused on release that this casual conversation was grinding at patience that had been pushed to the side for more lust. "My fucking organs!" She gasped in a fruitless way, she wasn't getting what she was after. Lambert was selfish, just because she was coming up short didn't mean he couldn't use this to his fucking gain.

"What are you doing?" She panted out and it sounded like a bested whine and Lambert grinned at the victory.  
"Staying here Marshmalo." He already had himself fully out, just stroking away. "My side of the door." He closed his eyes before leaning his cheek against the glass, breathing in the scent that sent his body into optimal sensitivity. "Won't touch you." He let his mind go, enveloped in the safety that she wouldn't touch him, in the buzz of her heavy debauched scent, fuck it felt good, better than any alone time had in years, because he wasn't alone. Those bested whines continued and just made it better and better, he felt warm all over. "S' ok?" He eventually got the words more or less out. If she said no he wasn't sure he could stand to leave, maybe crawl if he really willed himself.  
"Oh now you ask?" He heard her groan into some empty shaking release.  
"Malo?!" He needed a real answer.  
"It's . . . Yes Berty . . . Please stay? When you're done you can-"  
"I like to cat nap after a good go. I'll leave when you try to bite my head off or when I fucking feel like it." That was a good answer Lambert was right and fully pleased with himself.  
"Yes." She seemed to agree enough to make a word out of a long throaty groan. Panic set in for a moment, he felt it, smelt it, candied lemons.  
"Not an invite." He waited to hear the door click, waited for her to demand what he was so clearly offering up. She'd think the slick was asking enough and try to help herself to an open hole for all her pent up want. This wasn't the patient Malo he knew, it was an alpha rutting _hard_. She'd tease, laugh at him in a way that did bother, mention that he really was fast, fucking getting all good and wet for an alpha cause he wanted one needed one.  
"No." She sounded a bit alarmed mixed in with that all that lust. "No touching. You promised Lambert. You're not invited in."  
"Won't. Fucking promise Marshmalo. Don't be scared. Hate that smell." He was doing it again, flaring angry without explaining himself, she already was convinced her scent made him angry and it was much stronger than usual. She thought he was angry that he wasn't allowed in, that he'd hurt her, touch her. He could've explained, could've told her he was angry at his body and what message it sent to hers but that was a lot of fucking words and he wanted to be back in that warm buzzed space. "No one's going to touch you. I'll-"  
"Stab everyone? Protect me Berty?" It was a purr a beautiful fucking purr, it wasn’t the words that had him spill, he wasn’t sentimental, he didn't bust because she trusted him, wanted him, a wonky omega, to protect her, be there with her when her mind was elsewhere, vulnerable, it was just the fucking purr.  
"Will Marshmalo. All the way through won't fucking budge." Another bested whine and he could fucking bask in a mix of victory and post orgasm haze.

He was going to be here a while might as well get comfortable, his trousers went down to his knees, Lambert gave his cock a bit of a rest and began to finger himself working himself open to get a better angel, he wasn’t presenting, definitely wasn't trying to get more slick hoping somewhat foolishly she liked the smell of candied lemons. He found quite a good spot, that's why he didn't give a shit that he was mewling instead of growling, so long as he got gone again who cared what sounds he made.  
"Fucking lovely Berty." He hit a bundle of nerves with scisorring fingers, that's what sent a shiver up his spine, that's why he mewled hard into the glass that he was pretzeled against, not because that praise did anything for him.  
"Can I . . . Want to ask you something?" His throat was fucking dry, he wanted something to drink, no he wanted to taste her, run his tongue all over her.  
"If it's a knock knock joke I'll kill you Lambert." She sounded tired but she still had hours to go till her mind would settle enough to rest. Her body didn't care she was tired, if she had an omega they would take some of that burden but she didn't, she had Lambert licking at the door to the greenhouse like a headcase, he was not . . . Sensual or sensitive.  
"Who are you-" Wrong question, someone would get angry or sad, he wanted simple lust, wanted the buzz to keep going. "Can . . ." It wasn't shame or humiliation, it was . . . An half queasy half exhilarating feeling of being exposed. "Think of having me. It's not real, not touching, just your fucking head." It was only fair, she had done filthy things in his head, she could have the same if she wanted. Did she want to? He couldn't bring himself to ask.  
"Too late Berty." She sounded close again and it was just her scent that was getting him moving with purpose, falling forward onto knees had him palming an already leaking cock, he wasn't trying to get his rhythm with hers.  
"Late?"  
"Have been. Whole time Berty. You've been. . ." She didn't finish that sentence and Lambert would've given a fuck, would've asked how he was if he wasn't spilling with her.

Things slowed after a few hours of making every moment count, the sun was coming up, maybe it'd been more than a few hours. Fuck he'd forgotten how many times he came and went, also forgot when he had gotten completely fucking nude. No one was looking why did he fucking care? _'Wait.'_ A thought hit his garbled mind. "Have you been looking?" He was surprised he didn't sound angry, didn't _feel_ angry.  
"Tried. Glass is iced over. Know that's not fair. I'm sorry Lambert I won't-"  
"Head hurts Marshmalo." He palmed the glass and with a hand heated a bit with Igni he wiped at the door, clearing the frost. His head was leaned back into the door, eyes closed, he made sure he couldn't accidentally catch a glance because fuck did he want an image to hold in his head for future self indulgences.  
"I won't. It's not fair for me to look and ask-"  
"Head hurts Marshmalo. Shut up." He groaned, he really did feel rung dry. "Fucking look just shut up."  
"Lambert do you _want_ me to see you?" Fuck she wanted a real answer to that. It was the buzz that had him wanting to easily and eagerly admit yes, as weak and unseemly as he was, he wanted her eyes focused on him.  
"Not fucking bashful." Lambert shrugged.  
"I . . . I'll w. . . I'm fine. Vivid imagination." That answer wasn’t good enough, she fucking cared about his comfort, his consent, even with her head as floaty and feral as it was. Lambert went tense out of nowhere, let out a bit of a growl. "What? It's not that I find you-"  
"Someone's coming." Fuck if it took all his energy to stand, even more so to step forward. "Malo open the door."  
"Lambert I don't-"  
"Take my jacket alright? Cover up a bit?" He could be fair, care about her comfort. If his jacket held some of this fantastic fucking scent after they were done, worked out for him. Hearing the door lock squeak behind him made his ears perk, it wasn't a smile pushing them up.  
"Do _either_ of you have pants on?" Of course it was Vesemir, he'd fucking heard happiness and wanted it squashed dead. He was around the corner and getting closer.  
"Cook for yourself old man. She's busy."  
"So I've heard. And you've been-"  
"Can't you be anywhere else? Or dead?" Lambert's whole chest was quaking as he pulled his trousers on, he wasn't sure if it was still just his mind riding his body high but he felt, well still angry, always angry but also confident, far less crooked, his spine was stretched nice and straight, as angry as he was his head was both the calm and the storm.  
"Unless you two plan on living on spend and spindleweed you need some food." A tray was laid at corners edge. "Pup are you-"  
"Not a pup."  
"She is not having you compromise yourself is she?" Lambert heard his words, mulled over the positions he'd twisted himself into, the sounds he made, fuck the mess he'd gotten towards the end. Had he been drooling? He wiped his lower lip just in case.  
"No." He didn't get snide with his response because he didn't want Malo to take away that heady scent just yet and if his response had any room for question fuck knows she would.  
"I'll-"  
"Jaskier's got legs. Send him or fuck literaly anyone else next time." At this Vesemir sighed and while his constant air of disappointment was there, another emotion was mixed in, one Lambert wasn't familiar with.  
"Fine."

"You two have an . . . Odd relationship." Malo sounded quite tired but far less frenzied, Lambert figured once she ate she'd likely pass out into some wet dream.  
' _Thoughtful fuck.'_ As Lambert approached the tray he saw a water basin and a rag had been left as well, which Lambert's sticky . . . Everything could appreciate. "I hate him." Lambert's words were blunt but his tone noncommittal, like it was a phase one of them would die out of.  
"But also don't?" Malo questioned but got no answer, Lambert had no answer for her. He'd die for Vesemir there was no doubt about it, the old man was part of what small family he had left, but gods if he didn’t resent him, hate him. "Reminds me of . . . Well a few people." She yawned and then shivered, he could hear her nuzzling into his jacket and fuck that felt good. Then there were some pained little whimpers but unfortunately there wasn't much Lambert could do for that, her knot had nowhere to be and that likely would ache and throb at her for however long that took.  
"Sorry to hear that." He couldn't imagine having more than one Vesemir, well he could but all those bastards were dead, it wasn’t a thought worth lingering on. "Food will do you some good. You forget to eat at the best of times." He placed her portion by the door, finding a place to rest out of eyesight as she took it.  
"You can . . . You don't have to stay Lambert. That was the worst of-" She yawned. "It. I can handle the rest-"  
"Let me sit and eat. Fuck." He was starving, blowing through what had been brought, she was laughing, she was more or less back. "You . . . _Want_ me to go?" Lambert desperately wanted to be alone during his heats, well his rational brain did but he was never allowed that, he betrayed himself every time. Maybe Malo with her head about her no longer wanted the scent of a sexed up omega wafting around her.  
"I . . . I'm going to take a nap, I don't want you to have to camp out bored while I'm-"  
"Hey if they think I'm taking care of you they'll do my chores." Lambert was lazy, was selfish, this could work out well.  
"Ah." Malo laughed again and maybe there was a wobble in her voice but fuck if Lambert wasn't too tired to hear it. "Then bum around as long as you'd like." Another yawned and then a steady breath of sleep.

"It . . .Stop . . . Please . . . Stop. . . You promised." It was a broken whimper between panted breaths. Lambert shot awake from some sleep he'd fell into, it was mid afternoon judging by the light. Of course Malo would find a way to having a wet nightmare.  
 _'Promised.'_ It was him again, she was having nightmares of him. He didn't want to hear her say his name. "Malo wake to fuck up!" His fist clattered against the glass door. She didn't wake up, he could hear the whine topple into a dry sob.  
"Not like this . . . Didn't want it like . . . I know. Lam-" He had pulled open the door and chucked the contents of the water basin at her, she was lucky the container didn't fly with it. "Lambert?" She coughed over dripping water.  
"Stop saying my fucking name in your sleep!" He paced away from her, angry, buzz completely gone, just rage and self loathing, no calm, straight storm.

"Lambert?" There was a tap at his door. If anyone thought he was crawling out of the layers of blankets and stray bedrolls he'd amassed around him they were nutty.  
"Go. Away."  
"Lambert I'm coming in." It was the bard, even if he couldn't hear him, smell him, no one had such little self preservation to bother him right now.  
"Go. Away." Lambert growled, looking for something to throw but everything around him was mockingly soft and plush.  
"Did she . . . Hurt you physically?" Well atleast he wasn't trying to be poetic, he was getting straight to the point, running a soothing hand along what looked to be a blob of fabric but there was a witcher in there somewhere.  
"She knocks over in a stiff breeze she-"  
"Did she?"  
"No touching." Lambert's disposition was not growing warm at being cut off.  
"Good. That means-" Jaskier flopped right atop Lambert, sandwiching him snugly.  
"Off!" Lambert snarled.  
"Really?" Jaskier did stop nudging and nuzzling in search of Lambert's body.  
"Just . . . What do you want? I'm fine."  
"Don't _sound_ fine." Jaskier resumed at his systematic cuddling. "Did she hurt you-" After some deep digging Jaskier eventually found Lambert's face. "Here?" He bopped a finger against Lambert's forehead. The witcher remained silent, not wanting to answer, not wanting to admit that he was hurt in anyway, that he had allowed something as nontangible as nightmares wound him. "You know sometimes you get quite nasty during your heats. I'm sure you don't mean to-"  
"I mean every fucking word I say." Lambert seethed.  
"What did she say . . . Maybe she's not as deft at filthy words as we are. We've had years to perfect the-"  
"She wasn't . . . She was sleeping."  
"She . . .Ok well unless it was an offensive snore you're going to have to elaborate."  
"She had a nightmare." Lambert paused, if he didn’t say it Jaskier was just going to pester him till one of their untimely deaths. "Of me." Another pause, the bard wasn't rambling so he obviously expected more. "Not the first one. In them I . . . I think I . . ." He couldn't say what he thought he did. "She's begging me to stop."  
"Oh." Jaskier barely breathes his acknowledgement. "Well that is . . . Multi layered. Step one. Stop the nightmares. That stress ball had been helping yes?"  
"Maybe." Up until this afternoon she hadn't had a nightmare after Lambert gave her back the bagged rain.  
"Maybe she forgot to bring it with her? Geralt was in such a rush his last rut he'd forgotten he had a dagger in his boot. Lambert I nearly lost a finger. I _need_ those! There was no nick but if Geralt wasn't very affectionate with my fingers before, just kissing and sucking and-" Jaskier was losing himself to some filthy memory but Lambert just nodded. "I'll root around in her room and-"  
"Don't."  
"You see a flaw in my plan?"  
"I promised no one will touch her shit. I'll find it." He was untangling himself from blankets.  
"Great bring it to me or Eskel and we'll handle it from-"  
"No." And that quaking in Lambert's chest started up again. Lambert was hurt but still selfish, Jaskier had an Alpha he shouldn't get to get punch drunk on two sets of alpha scents. Eskel . . . Well Geralt said seeing Eskel would upset her and she likely wasn't in the best of moods, what dripping wet in that cold fucking- "She'll freeze!" Lambert had thrown water at her and ran, she was in that greenhouse just chilling to the bone, alone. "Fuck!" He stood with a bit of a stumble. He ran over to his dresser and started pulling out clothes.  
"Alphas run hot during their ruts. Though maybe a blanket you don't mind washing once or twice . . . You will have to throw out that blanket." Jaskier yelped as Lambert pulled a blanket from straight under him, causing his legs to turn towards the ceiling. "Would she prefer women's clothing?"  
"I'm sure she'd prefer a mink shaw but I'm fresh fucking out dandelion." Lambert had about six tunics busheled in his arms.  
"Right you're all about speed. You can't be bothered to be over encumbered by every broken rake and smoking pipe from here to Vizima." Jaskier chuckled.  
"The fuck are you going on about?" Lambert was out of his room and into Malo's, Jaskier was on his heels.  
"Geralt and Eskel are horders and I've been on about it for _years_! They likely have some women's clothing looted from . . . Well I've stopped asking where. I wonder if Oh I hope they do!" Jaskier was gone.

"Malo?" Lambert announced himself before turning the corner towards the greenhouse.  
"Lambert?" She didn't sound scared, maybe even relieved.  
"You . . . Cold? Brought a change of clothes . . . A blanket." He didn't say sorry because he was an asshole.  
"Just a bit." No it wasn't a fucking bit, he could hear her molars clatter even before he got to the fucking door.  
"Here." He left the pile at it's step and found a spot marked by an outline of his dried spend and reclaimed it. "Jaskier's off looking for girls clothes. No promises."  
"Oh . . . Will he be . . . Does he know where I am?" There was the fear of omegas right on time.  
"Does." No point in avoiding the truth. "You're uptight Marshmalo, give your bagged rain a squeeze."  
"My-" You can't actually fucking hear smiles but Lambert was fairly sure she had one. "You brought it." Yes her molars were still chattering but the warmth filling Lambert's chest had to be coming from somewhere, from her.

Sometime went in silence, maybe just to let both of them to catch their breath, or for Malo to be able to feel her fingers again. "Lambert I'm sorry for . . . I didn't mean for you to hear-"  
"When I said you could think of me . . . I didn't mean to make me more of an . . . No assholes don't do that . . . Worse than assholes." Lambert was seeing red, fire filling his veins.  
"Monsters." Hot as his blood was Malo's statement had him shoved right into a cold bath, ice cold. The transition of extremes was jarring.  
"People say I am one . . . Might be a bit . . . Most of me though? Most of me is built to protect helpless humans from monsters." He was happy to hear her laugh at that.  
"Lambert-"  
"Bard's bouncing our way." Neither he nor Malo were really in the mood for an ambush.  
"Surprise!" Yet there he was fucking frolicking at them. "Malo?"  
"Yes?" She sounded more than scared bordering on terrified. "What?" As her over active body reminded her that fear wasn't an emotion allowed to her, angry battle ready breaths swept in, there was no flight in Malo's list of options. Jaskier noted this and took a few paces back.  
"It's a few seasons out dated but the wolves won't notice _trust_ me." He tossed a surprisingly hefty pile of clothes where Lambert's had been, the refrosted door creaked open and pulled them in. "The best part I hear you ask?"  
"What . . ."  
"He doesn't want shit Marshmalo, he's a bard not a traveling merchant." Lambert knew where that was headed.  
"Look at the bottom."  
"A . . . Is that a rope ladder?"  
"Oh for Melitele's sake, under that." Jaskier let out annoyed sigh.  
"Gardening gloves?" Malo noted.  
"Neat?" Lambert nodded, the girl did spend all her free time in there.  
"Melitele . . . Not for . . . Not _just_ for gardening." Jaskier clearly thought the duo was taking this far too literally.  
"The fuck is it for then?"  
"Malo I know you don't want to touch anyone-"  
"I don't." She added in case no one had heard her the first several hundred times.  
"She doesn't have to." Lambert growled in case there was some small sliver of self preservation hidden in the bard.  
"No. She doesn't. But just like when Geralt stepped on her foot. Accidents happen. Leather on skin is . . . I guess to you somehow worse than leather on leather. But _better_ than skin on skin right?" Jaskier was wiggling his eyebrows in a way that both amused and frustrated Lambert.  
"Makes sense to me. Malo?" It didn't matter what the fuck he thought, mattered what she deemed not touching and what would cause her to run screaming cutting off any appendage in her way.  
"I still don't want to touch anyone."  
"Clear as fucking crystal Malo." Lambert's skull thudded against stone at the sheer repetion of it all.  
"If . . . It _did_ happen that would be better." And gods in Jaskier didn't look smug as shit at that.

Malo didn't touch anyone, she didn’t want to, didn't have to and she was careful to avoid accidents, even mid rut. Lambert was almost inseparable from her as the spell stretched into a second then third day. Even when she left the greenhouse and felt comfortable to do menial things in between storming to her room to feed a need. One, it got him out of chores, secondly it had him feeling wanted. Malo didn't _need_ him, she was lustful and hungry in spurts but she could manage that alone, a rut was like puberty all over again, not a mind scrubbing physical necessity like a heat. Jaskier had been in her space and while she cooled enough to be polite instead of primed for battle, she didn't want his company, she wanted Lambert's. She wasn't tolerating the witcher, it had to be her head losing inhibitions and taste but she wanted him, she liked him, liked his company, his knock knock jokes were hit or miss and boy could he be an asshole but she liked him. It had Lambert feeling . . . Something other than anger, not just less angry legitimate feelings apart from rage. He got close to figuring out what that feeling was on the third day, close because she allowed him close.

"Berty?" She had stolen herself to her room for the fourth time that day and Lambert was sat outside her door, hand fisted round a tired yet fuck if it hadn't risen to the challenge, cock through his trousers.  
"Yeah?"  
"Will you come . . . Inside?" She sounded unsure and if Lambert wasn't a selfish asshole he would have asked if that's really what she wanted or if it was just the rut talking.  
"Sure Marshmalo." Opening the door he was fucking assaulted with that burning mint liqueur scent, he went almost drunk on it. He sat at the floor of the bed, tipping his head back to just let it wash over him like a water fall. "Not just here for your fucking amusement. I'm-"  
"Want you to be amused Berty." It was another purr and the laces on these trousers truly did not deserve the rough wrangling he was giving them. It wasn't long before Lambert got to the edge, but that's where he staid, for a fucking long time, he thought when Malo tumbled into a quick fevered orgasm he'd follow suit but he just hung there, close. He wasn't in any particular cycle and while witcher stamina was glorified as more or less sex magic that occasionally helps when fighting monsters, he'd simply been pushed to a point that alone time had lost it's meaning. He needed more. He didn't ask though just gritted his teeth and kept up a frustrating pace.  
"Berty?"  
"What the fuck do you want Malo?" He quite literally had nothing left to give.  
"I don't like that you're beneath me." It took a moment for him to understand what she meant. For a second he thought she meant rhetoricaly, as in a lower class citizen, an omega or a mutant but Malo wasn't rhetorical with her head on straight, she wasn't going to be speaking in metaphors mid sex haze.  
"I can stand if that does something for you." Wasn't sure what that possibly changed but he was on his feet, dick still in hand. He heard a little bested whine but it was more whine than bested.  
"Berty?"  
"Fuck do you want me to stand on one foot Marshmalo? Pat my head and rub my stomach? Huh? What?" On edge was not a place Lambert hung gracefuly.  
"Do you think you'd be able to . . ." She was unsure again and Lambert was less annoyed when she was sure and not just humming and hawwing.  
"Spit it out. What?!"  
"Lay in bed with me . . . And not touch me?" Which put Lambert on a whole new fucking edge. He wasn't sure he could, he wasn't sure _she_ could. It was a really fucking bad idea that would likely ended in flames and it had him grinning from ear to ear.  
"Get fucking decent for a second. I'm going to have to look where I lay." He waited for shuffling of cloth to start and then stop before turning around to face her. Fuck if she didn't look absolutely fucking horrible, just wrecked and sweaty and tired as all fuck, hair everywhere, mouth lingering open half in want half in exhaustion tongue over teeth, everything below her chin was nestled under covers that needed a wash or a burn. Fuck if he had ever wanted something so horrible in his life, he didn't have an eye for beauty but this was by and far the best version of horrible. Her eyes were closed, still fucking concerned for his modesty or comfort or fucking something. He was careful, fuck if he wasn't careful as he slid to the farthest edge of her bed. "Better?"  
"Thank you Berty." He laid there motionless for a bit, just listening to her breath, it was wet and heavy and just like everything about Malo fucking loud. He felt like he was burning up, he wasn't just going to lay there uncomfortable, his tunic was quickly gone, his trousers had been a hindrance from the start. He was still hard and getting even closer to her, seeing her, hearing her, smelling her, had not made that temper. Again not wishing discomfort for discomfort's sake he went about trying to relieve the pressure. He heard her turn over on her side, away from him and he didn't mean to growl but it just happened.

 _'Words.'_ He didn’t have as many as Jaskier but he did have some. "If you . . . You can look." He opened his jaw just enough to grunt that out.  
"You've been kind enough Berty. Won't abuse that." She only got out that sentence after a keening sort of moan.  
 _'She wants to.'_ That shot through Lambert like a bolt of lightning. _'Wants me.'_ It rolled and singed at the tips of his nerves, he let out another growl, a better growl. "I'd . . . You know I got in trouble a lot as a kid."  
"You? I hardly believe it." She was patient if he had gone off on some tangent on when he tried to form a coupeagainst old speartip she would have listened, but that's not what he was getting at.  
"No one likes a show off." That was true as fucking shit, he had tried to show his grit and all it got him were looks over either annoyance or pity.  
"A . . ." She seemed to finally be catching on. "And you were a show off?"  
"Am. Stubborn as shit. Why hide my immeasurable talents?" He sounded smug, maybe a little proud.  
"Do you want me to watch you show off Lambert?" She tried to sound calm, tried to keep the moan out of her breath, the anticipation.  
 _'Wants to. Wants me.'_ Alphas took what they wanted, no questions asked, omegas gave opened armed open thighed, yet she clearly wanted and was clearly asking, he had the right to say no. "I left all my formal letter head in my room Marshmalo so if you're expecting a cordial-"  
"LAMBERT." She wanted there to be no wiggle to his approval or denial. "I will still like you . . . Still stay if you don't want me to look-" She was stripping any excuse he could use to deflect this later on.  
"Yes." It hissed out, it hurt, fuck did that small little word break all his bones into powder. "Alright?! Gonna make me beg-"  
"No." Her voice was very quiet, perhaps he had startled her, or perhaps she thought she had to be tender now that he was being a good little omega. "You'd be awful at begging Berty." Yet she laughed at him as if nothing had changed and he was able to huff out a chuckle. "I would never make a man living on ego alone beg unless-" Lambert's eyes shot to her, unless what? He had an aching desire to know unless what. "Well?"  
"Huh?" His head was melted wax, just an absolute puddle.  
"Is this you showing off? I mean-"  
"Fuck off!" For once in Lambert's life he slowed down. He watched her eyes just glue on him, focus and he wanted that for as long as he could hold it. Though for all the game he had spoken he really didn't know how to . . . Show off. He was just doing what he'd normally do just . . . Slower.  
"Berty has anyone ever told you that you have the most wonderful hips?" She didn't say pretty, or beautiful, nothing dainty and light to describe his leaner by comparative witcher standards frame.  
"What's so wonderful about them?" He felt the joints rising at the compliment, twisting and turning up to meet him.  
"Well makes you wonder what they could do." She was purring again and he wanted more of that, his hips rising stupidly off the bed like there was anywhere for them to be.  
"Malo?" Gods his throat was dry, next lucid thought he had he'd go get them water, maybe vodka if he could find it, he was in a good mood.  
"Yes?"  
"You ever let . . . " He had a very clear fantasy in his mind, did he endanger losing it to reality?  
"Never _let_ anybody do anything. Ask me if I'd like Berty." There were layers to that sentence but Lambert didn’t need layers right in this moment.  
"Would you like . . . If an . . ." No this fantasy was percise, it was a precise answer or nothing at all. "If I had you." His hips kept churning but he was pretty fucking sure his heart might've stopped for a minute. "Like this. Was on you, had you . . . "  
"In a rut . . . It's hard not to want to be on top." She seemed to be moaning at a fantasy all her own. "But . . . I'm sure I would like it Berty. Sure that you'd . . ."  
"You'd fucking love it Marshmalo. I'd . . . Might seem like an asshole but I'd want you to love it . . . I'd show you what my hips could do."  
"I fucking believe it Berty." His eyes that had long gone shut pulled open, looked over at her, she had that happy look on her face like when he'd fixed her bagged rain.  
"So in your fucking filth how am I?" He didn't really want to talk much more, he found himself squirming under her gaze and that was unseemly.  
"Right now?"  
"Yeah." That's right she had thought of him before and what a fucking trip that was.  
"Just as you are." She seemed to coo like Jaskier did when he was flirting, but this was different it wasn't a joke, wasn't obligatory inclusion. "Except I could taste you Lambert. All over, every sweet and sour inch of you. Would you-"  
"Yes." What ever the question was the answer had to be yes there was no other option. His eyes screwed shut again.

"Is it true?"  
"What?"  
"That no one likes a show off? Because in my filth I love the taste of you Berty. I show off too, I've seen you stare at my mouth a few times Berty. Do you ever wonder it could do?" Lambert couldn't answer he was too busy choking on his tongue. "Only after I'd have you Berty. I'd want you feeling right and good and wanting."  
"I want-" He thanked some god he didn't believe in that she cut him off.  
"I Wouldn't make you beg Berty but perhaps I'd ask for manners. Ask an asshole like you to say please, you'd probably tell me to fuck off. Which is fine, more than fine. I'd respect that." There was such a sultry smile there if Lambert could open his eyes to see it.  
"But? If I had fucking manners?" He didn't want her to stop talking.  
"I'd much rather fuck in than off." He could not, would not hold a second longer. He hadn't shown off, he hadn't done shit except add to the mess on her linens, yet he heard a little happy sigh from her side of the bed. "That was nice Berty. Thank you."  
"For . . . For what?" He felt a bit embarrassed, ashamed maybe. What had he done to warrant thanks.  
"I've never wanted to get . . . Never been so pleased to see someone pleased. You lived up to any and all expectations." She was yawning again, her eyes lost their focus started to close. He could smell it she had if not with him quickly followed suit.  
"Get some sleep Marshmalo. Bring you some water. Need to hydrate." Lambert noodled his way out of the bed and stood over her, just stared at her for an amount of time he didn't think on. Till something changed, her scent, it was softening, her rut breaking. Lambert felt a sinking feeling. Would things go back to normal? Did he want things back to normal? Things changed slowly if at all in Kaer Morhen but there wasn't enough magic in the keep to stop time entirely. _'Fuck'_


	7. Long ago Far away

He wasn't avoiding her . . . Well he was, ducking corners, eating meals long after they went cold, spending more time with those numbskull trolls by his pond than even he could deem enjoyable but in his mind he was saving that moment. That look in her eyes, her focus on him, that happiness, he had been happy not angry in that moment. If he didn’t see her eyes again she couldn't look at him differently. If he just kept replaying that closeness in his head he could tweak it anyway he'd like. He'd added to it in his head, not much, just one little thing. In his mind she didn't act on her filthy words, no that would have ruined it, ruined all the trust that was there. In his mind though she reached out after, when she let out that happy little sigh and her hand was sharp and tight in his hair, not hurting just holding, in his mind she turned his face fully towards her and she kissed him, it was a soft and maybe even a bit of an anxious kiss and it had want in it because all kisses had some degree of want but it was a slow lingering, staying want, she wanted him. In his mind fuck if she didn't taste like mint.

It was going fucking great for a few days until it wasn't, till one brilliant no possible way it could turn out poorly plan smashed into another, hard. It had started to snow, big heavy flakes, he was headed in before it became a nuisance to trudge through and if burying his face into the collar of his jacket pressed the last bit of that fading scent into his nose so fucking be it. Thing of it was this was mid day, he opened the gate to day drinking, jaunty music and Malo's hands not quite touching but so fucking close to Eskel's face, just under his chin. "You know the steps Elk. You don't have to stare at my feet anymore. You can bear to look me in the face can't you? I know I'm a bit scruffy but my eyes are some of my best traits."  
"It's not that." Eskel was scratching at his scar, he was nervous.  
 _'Elk?'_ Why was she calling his brother a moose? Actually it didn't much matter it wasn't going to make the sloshing feeling in Lambert's stomach any better or worse to know. If that was all assaulting his sense well Lambert still likely wouldn't have taken it well but there was something else, something that upset him on an equal but unrelated level. Her scent, it wasn’t gone, but it was burried under a familiar wet leaves odor. All that work in the green house, was it to get the ingredients needed for her surpressants? She had come to her senses in those days, decided she didn't infact want Lambert and she didn't want him to want her, it had been a mistake, she had moved on to bigger and better things, she had moved on to Eskel.

"Why . . . Are you taking them again?" He had been fast to jump to conclusions before, he was trying not to repeat mistakes but it was fucking hard what with all the indisputable evidence right in his fucking face.  
"Lambert." Not Berty, no smile, it wasn’t fear, she wasn't afraid that Lambert would hurt her, touch her but she was . . . Sad? That didn't make sense to him, he felt his brain shift, shut down, wanting no new information, trying to make a plan out of what was infront of him. He took slow planted stalking steps towards her, close, maybe too close.  
"Why are you taking them again? Do you think it will help? Think I'll lose your scent? Won't know you're here? Are you trying to hide-"  
"Lambert back up-" Eskel had a hand at his chest and being told, straight up told to stay away broke Lambert's concentration and anything even parodying calm. He swung right into the smug square jaw and Eskel swung back hitting him right in the nose, Lambert let the inertia of the hit turn his heels, he was charging but he didn't brace, didn't block and he was hit hard by aard, slammed hard into the stone floor.

"ENOUGH!" Geralt had found himself between his two brothers. "JASKIER YOU AND MALO GO . . ." He took a swift inhale, palmed his whole fucking face staring at Lambert like he was a miserable puzzle again. "Anywhere. Just . . . Go. We need to talk-"  
"I don't want to sit and talk-" Lambert was wedging himself back up on his elbows.  
"LAMBERT!" Malo's eyes were absolutely huge, she was angry, which was better than sad but not much. "This isn't something you can punch your way out of."  
"Fuck says I-"  
" _Please_." She was still angry, her face red with it, her voice strained with it, but atleast she was focused on him. " _Please_ talk to them. I'm . . . Sorry Lambert."  
 _'Stop I'm sorry. I swear I'm sorry'_ Her haunting nightmare rasp rung in his ears, mixed with the rattle of Eskel's punch. "Just go." Lambert sneered as he paced in place. Fine he would listen to them preach at him, tell him this was his fault, his doing, he asked for this and he had no one to blame for how angry he was other than himself.

The faint scent of mint washed under wet leaves left down some hall. "This is what I was worried about." Geralt finally sighed.  
"Fair is fair." Eskel shrugged rubbing at his jaw as he sat.  
"The fuck does that mean?" To say Lambert was still hot was an understatement, still pacing himself dizzy.  
"Means I hit you because you hit me. I don't want to fight you." How the fuck was Eskel so calm?  
"We tried to warn you." Geralt was speaking slow and Lambert didn’t know if that's because his brother thought he was stupid or thought he wasn't listening, or some pitiful mix of both.  
"Yeah Yeah I get it, lost at my own fucking game, beat myself. Should have listened, shouldn't have gotten my-"  
"What do you think you lost?" Maybe Eskel was more cruel than Lambert thought. Maybe he wanted to hear Lambert submit, revel in his victory. "Lambert you've been running from her for days."  
"I . . . I told you to go for her I'm-" He was not happy for them there was no happiness in any cell of Lambert's body. "Just . . . If you fucking hurt her Eskel fucking touch her I'll-"  
"If you threaten to stab me one more time I'm going to start to take it personally." Eskel was cruel, he was making jokes at a time like this.  
"Eskel isn't trying to take her from you." Geralt was a bit of a third wheel here but his face was heavy with thought, clearly the white wolf had a lot of opinions on the sorry state of things.  
"Doesn't matter." Not that Lambert believed that statement but even if he did that didn’t change shit. "She doesn't want me. Maybe if I wasn't an omega if I was-"  
"I . . . Lambert I don't think you _are_." Geralt must have fucking lost his mind. Lambert would find it and pound it through his fucking skull.  
"Are you _mocking_ me?" Lambert stopped pacing and cut the space between himself and his brother.  
"Before you throw a punch. I don't believe in fairness quite the same way as Eskel. I _will_ fight you to be heard." Geralt sounded threatening which a sounder minded Lambert might've headed but that sentence had insulted him to his very core, he couldn’t let it stand.  
"Fine then fucking throw!"  
"Hear me out?" Geralt had his hands up in defense apparently no one wanted to bleed and bruise quite the way Lambert did in this moment.  
"You've seen . . . The fuck do you mean not an omega? You've seen . . . It's two weeks away. What proves that I'm-"  
"Sure your body is . . . But what are witchers if not proof that what we're born as isn't what we're meant to be." Geralt was very careful not to say destined, Lambert would have killed everyone and torn Kaer Morhen down brick by fucking brick if they brought that horse shit into the conversation. "I think maybe your head . . . Is more like mine than it is like Jaskier's." Geralt's words were slow and calculative again. "I've seen what she brings out of you. Your natural reaction is that of an Alpha, you have sat posted outside or more doors in the last three weeks protecting a woman that won't let you touch her-"  
"It's not fucking funny Geralt." Lambert could hear a chuckle in the back of Geralt's throat and he simply couldn't bear it in the moment. His head was fucking splitting. "It's a nice fucking thought." Lambert shrugged, cooling down ever so marginally. "All it is though. I still . . . Well-" Thing of it was if it was that fucking black and white he would've just kept to omegas and betas and his heats would just be his body flushing out slick and urges that weren't him, just his biology. He'd still not be what was intended, still a mistake, but a mistake that made sense. He had urges for Alphas to take him out of heat though, not always, and he acted on it even less but they were his lucid minded thoughts.  
"The world is changing." Oh for fucks sake was Vesemir still alive?  
"And what am I the next step in witcher evolution?"  
"No. If I've told you once I've told you a million times you're nothing special Lambert."  
"Thanks for the pep talk." Lambert snorted.  
"The world is changing and we mortals are scared of the unknown. So we hold onto old ideals, out dated definitions, fool ourselves into thinking we know all there is to know, when fact is we are forgetting what we've shown."  
"Old man this has nothing to do with swords or monsters. Keep your fucking bestiary bullshit to-"  
"There's only the four of us now, but there used to be others."  
"No shit. I remember them. I remember the ones you let die before they had the chance to be burried with medalions. Remember Voltehre?" Lambert saw the slight wince in the old wolf but he couldn't be bothered to pull that punch, he never did, reminding the old man so slipping memory could not obsolve him of sins. "What's your fucking point?"  
"As I said, you are not special Lambert . . . Atleast not in the regard you think. Not unique, not a mistake." That caught Lambert's attention. "There were witchers _like_ you. There are _people_ like you. Who feel like you. There are those who feel like Geralt, feel like Eskel, none of you are exactly how the textbooks-"  
"We don't _feel_ at all. You made sure of that!" Lambert was deflecting, lashing out, they all knew they felt, hell resentment was an emotion and Lambert had that in spades.  
"The broken girl you brought here. She has-"  
"Malo! Her name is fucking _Malo_. Call her by her fucking name!"  
"Her name doesn't matter, the reason I allowed her to stay as long as she did was to prove a point. You could make sense of it if you could see it, if there was a cause and effect."  
"Cause and effect?"  
"You're a contradiction because you need to cause mayhem even in your marrow. She was born an Alpha and she was damaged. You can wrap your head around that, makes sense. You have no problem accepting _her_ contradictions, that her desires disagree with instinct. You understand damage pain-"  
"Not . . ." Not when she looked at him with focus, not when he saw she _could_ be happy, he couldn’t understand why anyone would _want_ to damage that. Cause her pain. "Under that . . . The damage. She . . . Geralt you said . . . Defending is natural but fixing . . ."  
"More important." Geralt nodded. "We don't want to take her from you Lambert. She's your . . . Bagged rain."  
"She's not my anything that's-" It wasn’t ok, it wasn’t alright, it right and truly hurt, made him angry but that didn't change the fact, he wanted to maybe not fix but mend her, not into some perfect Alpha, into someone who wasn't alone, someone who could cry if they wanted, touch if they want to. "She doesn't have to take surpressants to . . . I read too much-"  
"She was taking them for you!" Eskel had been quiet, been thinking, been scratching at his scar. "Vesemir what did you mean when-"  
"She still up on thinking her scent makes me angry?"  
"It does." Geralt chimed. "Everything makes you angry." Lambert sneered off to the side, he wasn't wrong. "You know I love Jaskier. Everything about him, even the parts that make me angry. No one enrages me quite like him. I believe he actively makes a sport out of it. His voice, he does things that are godly with it. Actively summons demons _I_ have to fight in the next breath." Geralt let out a remembering sigh of exhaustion.  
"Vesemir you-" Eskel tried again and was cut off again.  
"Less angry. Makes me _less_ angry . . . Like it." Lambert liked her scent plain and simple.  
"She thought you felt used by an Alpha, thought that she hurt you and that's why you were avoiding her. When Jaskier brought up that your heats were on the way she wanted to make sure you felt safe, hense, surpressants. Eskel and Jaskier have been trying to keep her positive." Geralt shrugged.  
"Not you?"  
"I tried." He shrugged against. "I had less than stellar results." Geralt wasn't exactly a beacon of positivity.  
"No I-" Lambert was going to explain to himself but Eskel had waited his turn long enough.  
"Vesemir! What did you mean when you said stay as long as she _did_?" Eskel did ask some valid questions.  
"Well she . . . She left. I figured that's what had Lambert upset. Honestly it's for the best. I don't know why you boys insist on pursuing humans. Feel how you feel but-"  
"The fuck did you just say?" Lambert did not wait for an answer, nor did he believe the old man.

"Malo?!" Lambert was sprinting up the stairs. She couldn't have left. He'd have seen her they were in the fucking main hall. She _wouldn_ 't have left, he'd been an asshole for over a month, no one not obligated by a contracted need of his protection or a mutated level of comrodiry had staid with him, well since he was a child.  
"JASKIER?" Perhaps Geralt was even the smallest bit concerned Malo had brought his bard in on her escape either willingly or less than so. The troubadour met the swarming pack at the top of the stairs.  
"What's going on? Did we have a break through? Are we finally having an orgy to cut the tension as I first sug-" Jaskier was lifted three feet off the floor, shoulders viced in Lambert's clutches.  
"Where is she?!"  
"She . . . Well she wanted to be alone. Went to her happy place, the green house."  
'Fuck.' The greenhouse had a backdoor, lead to stares, lead to freedom from Kaer Morhen. "Why would you let her-" Lambert's small moment of acceptance, of understanding he wasn’t a monster two times over was being lost to the white hot rage pulsing through him, it was rage to burn out the loss, he'd rather litteraly ignite in anger than feel anymore loss, he'd lost everything once before and swore never to feel it again.  
"PUT HIM DOWN LAMBERT." Geralt's restraint was commendable, it was probably flooding his brain, the need to protect his mate from this madman that could only casualy be called his brother. Lambert did listen, placing Jaskier down on his feet only to shove past him.

"She can't have gotten too far." Eskel tried that positive outlook that had kept Malo around as long as it had while Lambert was busy hiding.  
"No. She'll fucking freeze to death." Lambert whipped open Malo's door and while there was mint, it was just the memory of a scent, taunting him. "Or get fucking eaten."  
"Wait what's going on?" Jaskier was out of the loop.  
"You knew." Lambert turned to Vesemir, he didn't strike, didn't lunge, only decades of conditioning kept him from doing so. "Know she won't make it down." Lambert shouldered his way back to the stairs. "Why would you let her go?" Vesemir had seem indifferent about Malo at best, knew that she was well liked enough by the rest of the keep. Why would the old man send her out into the elements? Send her to die?  
"I asked why she was so hell bent on running to her death. She said she had hurt you, she wasn't lying-" He would have been able to tell. "If she died so be it. I've out grown compassion and forgiveness when home became a last stand." Vesemir had that tone Lambert couldn't give him decency to dissect.  
"Fuck." Lambert went and punched a wall, he wanted something, anything, he wanted his muscles to stop tearing under the strain of how many directions he was being pulled in.  
"You can curse and kick all you like once we find her." Eskel put a hand on his shoulder.  
"We'll help you alright? We're witchers. We solve problems it's what we do." Geralt had has hand on the other and Lambert felt smothered, elbowing his way out.  
"Old man?" Lambert's wanted to rest his forehead against the stone, wanted to cool his brain, he must be over heating, only explanation for getting his hopes up. Instead he staid hot and started making his way to the stable.  
"Lambert if you and your brothers stop waisting your time jabbering the better-"  
"Do me a favor. For once in your life? Do one fucking think that isn't actively punching me in the dick?"  
"What?" Vesemir almost smiled because Lambert never lowered off his high horse to ask Vesemir for anything, never got that close to saying he needed or wanted anything from him, anything to do with him.  
"My horse is dead. I'm taking yours." Malo was likely riding Delcot half blind, was the trail even visible under the snow? She couldn't take the exact same way they had come up. She likely would be forced not too far down, to make a directional choice, trick of it was there was no right choice, each turn either brought you to crumbling relics or an early grave lest you were a wolf.  
"You may _borrow_ my horse. Try not to be as careless with my mount? She is used a rider of a more even temperament than you." He was still patronizing even in being amiable but the old wolf was never going to learn all that many new tricks.  
"If it's anything like you it doesn't know when to hang it up. Dandelion?"  
"Lambert I know, I shouldn't have kept a better eye on her, I'm sorry and if anything happens to her-"  
"She's batty Jaskier, she . . . Would've left even if you were holding her ankles. You can't build a nest for shit but . . . If we end up bringing her back in one piece she'll be freezing-"  
"If? Don't you mean when? Don't worry when you all get back I will make sure you have warm baths, warm bellies, warm beds. Not even you will have room to complain." Jaskier had an optimistic smile but it was not nearly as comforting as intended, it tore at Lambert's chest.  
"Told you what I told her. Called the killer for a reason." Lambert knew he would find her, he'd turn over every fallen tree in the blue mountains till he found her, that was an absolute. Alive was a whole nother story. He had to be fast, faster than the falling snow, faster than forktails, faster than fate itself because she was intangled with him now, some of his foul luck had surely rubbed off on her.

"She . . . Stopped here. Had to make a choice." Just as he thought straight south had become too densely packed with snow, she had to take a side branch. "Went. . . ." The surpressants made it hard, she smelled of wet leaves and they were in the wilderness packed with five feet of snow. Mint was there but it was blowing almost wickedly in the hars wind. "West."  
"You're right she's not dumb." Geralt sounded mildly impressed.  
"You mean by that?" Lambert actually thought it was the lesser option to take, she was headed towards the bastion, there were wraiths there, he was sure he'd told her that.  
"Someone freezing will want the sun as long as they can have it. Sets in the west." The brothers kept on till a new scent hit the breeze about an hour later.

"Smoke" Eskel was squinting at the training bastion, none of the men visited there on leisure. It was where they had trained as boys before the grasses.  
"So she got that far." Geralt was no more an optimist than Lambert. "Fire will attract the spirits. We need to-"  
"Move your fucking asses is what you need to do." Lambert was shouting over his shoulder. Even if she was dead, he wanted to move her before the body frosted, before she became one more soul snuffed out and stuck trapped where no person should be, where only those unwanted surprises dwelled.

They found Delcot circling the bastion, loose untethered, in case she died she didn't doom her horse. "Do you smell-" Geralt pulled Roach to a stop.  
"Malo?! You fucking fool!" Of course he fucking smelled it, Eskel hadn't broken his nose with his punch. It was blood, old but not old enough, human but not laced with mint, it wasn’t her blood. Who else had been here? Where did the Blue mountains become a tourist destination. "Malo I'm freezing my balls off chasing after you! I'm not in a fucking good mood!" As he passed the gates he was flooded by a memory. It wasn't a happy memory per se, Lambert didn’t have happy memories but it was probably one that made him the least angry, a memory of when he realized he was fast.

It had been a ten mile hike to the bastion, then it was to be ten laps of wall runs. He hadn't been the first one there, there were older boys in his group, with bigger lungs, longer legs, better endurance. He came in with a handful of others three laps ahead of him. The walls, he was good at the walls, could make sharp work of the corners that the bigger boxed shouldered boys couldn't, then he was two behind. It wasn’t fair that he'd wasted all this energy just to be second best, that his muscles would burn out and fail him in the last spurt, it was all so pointless, anger made him move faster, then he was one behind. He didn't care about winning he just didn't want to hear Voltehre brag, the boy wasn’t even entertaining with it, Lambert just didn't want to lose and second place was losing, he'd been told as such, had it beaten into him. With some balance he didn't know he had he was able to skirt the wall's edge, able to pass, he was ahead. Just a little bit more, he could win and if he died tomorrow someone would remember he had won today. There was no pat on the back for winning, there was no prize, only resentful stares from the other boys who had run themselves into the ground for nothing. "Wrong school. Who let the cat in the keep." It was the first laugh he'd heard since he'd gotten here and it _was_ at him but also _for_ him, acknowledging him as an individual, it was a congratulations from the instructor, Lambert was the fastest of his group. By the time of the trial of the medalion that meant far less, being the fastest of two wasn't that impressive. So he ran and ran, all his free time was dedicated to being indisputable on that front, fast, fastest. He was always chasing that moment.

It took a minute to realize his memories weren't that fucking vivid, he wasn't hearing his human child's heartbeat, hadn't heard his satisfied panted chuckle for being the fastest wolf. "Malo?!" Someone was alive in here, that hadn't been the case in ages. There were dead bodies, three, looked like retired soldiers, had been dead least a week but had been moved recently, he could see the drag marks, they had been made into a pile by the fire. _'Mint.'_ She had burrowed beneath the corpses for a period of time _. 'Not stupid.'_ But she wasn't there, as he approached he saw claw marks in the dirt, she had pulled herself from under them at some point. A trio of wraiths manifested around him, Eskel had cast a wide net of yerden and Lambert took care of two and Geralt had the third on his flank.  
"Her clothes. Why-" Lambert picked through the lump of cloth, tunics, trousers, one sock. _'Her . . .'_ It was there her bagged rain, he clutched it in his fist, he could hear his stitches strain.  
"Paradoxical undressing." Eskel was smart, he knew shit. "When people go through the late throws of hypothermia they become disoriented, combative, confused to the point they think they're over heating and up discarding their clothes." That was grand and all but Lambert wasn't studying for a fucking exam. He kicked the clothes close to the fire and began following her bare footprints.  
"What . . . Comes next?" Lambert had a clue.  
"Hide-and-die. Terminal burrowing. She'd find a small space to curl-"  
"Malo!" Just as Eskel had predicted, she had wedged herself in between a collapsed wall and one still fighting time's harsh hand. "Fuck." He ignored her rule and grabbed her held her pale body close to his chest, lifted her from the spot. ' _Is she breathing?'_ He had heard her a minute ago but you can die sixty times over in a minute. As he waited for an inhale he saw it, why she wore all the clothes, why no one was allowed to look at her skin, why no one was allowed to touch her. As he carried her over to the fire his brothers saw it too.  
"Those . . . Bite marks?" Geralt had plenty of scars, Eskel knew what it was like to have people stare in morbid curiosity and averted his gaze, Lambert was fucking furious. Dozens, overlapping at parts, her back her front, arms, legs, some were heavy and uneven, others light imprints barely there and everything in between.

"Marshmalo I'll fix it I fucking swear." Now was not the time for scenting and nuzzling to soothe but Lambert was rubbing his face into her neck all the same. It was in one of those runs long her throat he felt it. _'A pulse.'_ He shouldn't have but his own mouth went over it, trying to heat it to move faster. Then he heard it, gods if it wasn't a sad little death rattle but it was a breath. "Nows not the time to get quiet on me Marshmalo." He had to get clothes on her. "Some fucking help?" These men were deft at the process of disrobing others but getting her lax limbs into those narrow legged trousers was nothing short of an impossible feet of sorcery. _'Twelve.'_ She'd only taken twelve breaths in that whole ordeal. "Marshmalo?" He was torn did they build a bigger fire here to atleast get her stable or did they race back to the hearths at home and just hope they could be faster than death?  
"Here." Eskel's jacket was more cloth than leather, it could be worn under Geralt's that's followed suit, Lambert’s own wasn't made to wrap around such bulk, didn't allow itself to bend around her no matter how much he cursed and attempted to cram.

He really fucking wished she'd say something, that those frozen eyelashes would crack open even just once, just a brief reminder that she wasn't as dead she looked. "Just . . . Be fucking patient alright Marshmalo? Don't go dying on me already or I'll kill you. Gotta make everything so fucking dramatic." He was standing, pulling her up to his chest, the way her head snapped back and away just boneless was sickly. He had made a career, a life, fuck his existence had just been him being a bit faster than death, he could do it again. She couldn't wear it but he buried her face within his jacket shielding her from the still falling snow.

She didn't move the entire ride back up she breathed exactly one thousand eight hundred and sixty-five times, Lambert knew because he focused on keeping the running tally instead of letting his mind wander. "You found her! I knew you'd-" Jaskier got that morose seeing a dead body look as the witchers came within the gates. He thought she was dead, the only plausible explanation for her being within Lambert's arms.  
"Need to get her organs warmed. Get a bath just short of boiling and get her in it now." Vesemir could hear the slight inhale, the sign of life. "You're going to have to keep her upright. Warm and drowned will do no good."  
"No shit." Lambert was pacing down to the baths.

It wasn’t a wail or a scream, Malo's lungs lost their freeze as she was lowered into the steaming water and it was just another death rattle but it was higher, there was a whine in there, which was good, meant she was registering pain. "Marshmalo?" Why wouldn't she open her eyes though? Why wouldn't she look at him? He kept counting her breaths, strumming a hand that wanted to fidgit through her hair. About an hour passed till something outside of groans and whines hit his ears.  
"You promised you wouldn't touch me Lambert." Was she having a nightmare? Her eyes were still closed. "You . . . Why did you go looking for me?"  
"Marshmalo you . . ." She was awake, why wouldn't she open her fucking eyes. "Because you're a helpless human and you would've froze to death."  
"So?" Just a little word but gods if it wasn't the wobbliest one yet.  
"Marsh-"  
"Just call me by my name."  
"No." Lambert did remove his hand from her hair. "Marshmalo . . . I wasn't . . . You didn’t hurt me. Can't be hurt by something like you." He tried to tease but then thought on those words. "Hurt that you left . . . Weren't there. Found you and thought . . . You looked fucking dead. I don't want to . . . I was avoiding you cause I wanted to keep you. Then I heard you call Eskel-"  
"Lambert you're touching me." She sounded scared and angry to be as such.  
"You got no fucking bones Marshmalo! The second you can move a pinky I'll let go." He was elated she wasn’t dead but why did she sound like that was less than the best fucking news this century.  
"My shirts aren't in the right order." They were clothed, Lambert had assumed her waking up to him nude in a bath would not garner a positive reaction.  
"You . . .uh . . .took them off . . . Went into some paradox bullshit. I didn't . . . We didn't have a choice Malo you would have fucking died!"  
"Everyone . . . "  
"You were naked and fucking dying Malo what would you have us do?"  
"They all saw?" He felt her curl in on herself.  
"The scars?" Lambert sneered because he was not a man who didn’t let things like that upset him, he was angry upon seeing them and likely would be if allowed a next time. "We all got scars Malo." He didn’t think less of her because of them.  
"Your scars are from monsters. Mine are-"  
"So the fuck are yours. Honestly Malo I don't trust people that don't have scars so if anything-" His arm around her waist tightened and he felt her tense up. "What do you want old man?"  
"Speaking of trust." Vesemir entered the room. "Girl you were found in the company of three corpses." He was handing her a mug of tea.  
"They were already long dead when she got there." Even if they hadn't been, even if she killed them who the fuck cared?  
"Yes but why were they there in the first place? You are to have me believe we've gone decades without unexpected visitors, you find this girl in a house shrouded by an illusion and then you find three dead men mere miles from the keep and expect me to think that a coincidence?" The old man had a point but Lambert didn’t need to acknowledge it.  
"They likely were looking for me when they didn't find me at the house. They died the way I would have." Malo sounded . . . Blank, there wasn't any emotion there.  
"Were you on the run from them? Should we be expecting _more_ of their ilk?" Vesemir didn’t have the door open asking her to leave and take her threat with her so that was something.  
"No. They knew I was there, one of them had come last season as well. It's not as if I can easily pop down to the local merchant for supplies. He employs a few men to bring up replenishments every couple months."  
"Who is funding your harboring?" An enchanted house, the longest delivery service imaginable, it did all sound beyond a hermits allowance.  
"Amadis de Trastamara." Sure as fuck sounded like a man who had a personal vault in some high bank.  
"Why?"  
"Did he . . . Is he one of your monsters?" Lambert was going to assure her that the rich bled just as red and twice as quick as the poor.  
"He . . . I lived with him until about a year or so ago. I told him I wanted to be alone . . . _Very_ alone, he got me set up in a place where, until Berty nearly died on my door step, I could be alone. Amadris isn't a monster."  
"He was your mate?" This had Lambert's hold on her waist grow. _He_ wanted her, had the blessings of his brothers, had a loose understanding of his sense of self. He was prepared to give it a proper shot but was he competing against nobility? She had left that man, maybe that worked to the wolf's favor, Lambert was as far from nobility as you could get. She had called him Berty again that was a step in the right direction. Still Lambert was a sprinter, he had snatched her focus, could he be enough to deserve keeping it?  
"Milva is his mate. I . . . Was a creature comfort." Malo shrugged. "Like a training sword you hold onto for nostalgia sake." She was getting better, her face was red with anger which meant her blood had finally thawed. "I didn't think about the supply runs when I came here." Her eyes were dim, distant, gone.  
"Well you should have. You've done quite a bit of acting without thinking since you've been here." Did Vesemir know how to cut someone a break? She had just come back to the world of the living. "You will pen the man a letter. Advise him that you are Lambert's headache for the time being." Well that was forward as fuck and not exactly how Lambert had wanted to word his proposition of them being . . . Something.  
"Berty?" He could hear her heartbeat race, she was feeling anxious, trapped.  
"I'm not asking to be your mate Marshmalo. Just let me uh . . ." What exactly did he want? "For fucks sake let me just keep you from winding up dead?" Protecting her and making her laugh, keep the hurt away, keep her focus that . . . Wasn't enough but it was a start.  
"Berty?" Her voice was a bit panicked.  
"Yeah Marshmalo?" He watched her hand rise out of the water, she wiggled a pinky in his face.  
"Can I get out I need . . ." She gave a fond little smile as his arm left her waist. She stood slowly and with leaning most of her weight on the tub's rim she was able to get out of the water, sitting on the floor it didn't take long for her to start to shiver.  
"Marshmalo you can go wherever you want so long as it's near a fire but . . . I said I'd show you my nest didn't I?" He had staid planted in the bathwater, he wanted Malo to lose that claustrophobic feeling.  
"You . . . Did. Berty I still-"  
"It's warm as shit. You'll be knocked out in no time. Fucking Dandelion stewed some carrots, should eat something-"  
"Berty we . . . Need to talk."  
"Fuck how many people are going to try to chew my ears off today? Fine. Can I carry you up to the room? I'd like to get this lecture over sometime this week." If she wanted him not to touch her, to crawl up the two flights of stairs to his room he'd let her but he did voice his preference and lack of patience.  
"I . . ." She looked at those stairs almost mocking her. "Yes." She wasn’t dead or dying and she was going to let him touch her. He nearly tripped out of the tub to act before she changed her mind.

"Gods what the fuck have you turned me into Marshmalo." He slid a plate of carrots cross his floor, into his fucking nest that he wasn't fucking in, to an Alpha that had a minor cardiac arrest every time he touched her. He hadn't felt so . . . Not angry in fucking years. He felt right, felt good, felt happy. It was a jittery fucking feeling, his face couldn't decide if he wanted to scowl or smile and that felt fucking right.  
"Berty . . . Why are you . . . Taking care of me?"  
"Because-"  
"This is a serious question Lambert. If the sentence you started included the words helpless humans I'd rethink it unless you want a face full of carots." She chuckled a bit and Lambert smirked, she was teasing again.  
"I . . . Fucking want to alright? I like . . . Mint . . . Like when you laugh . . . You make me less angry."  
"But I'm not . . . Able to _do_ anything for you. Not an even trade."  
"I kill things, that's what I do. I like being able to . . . Help without silver. Makes me feel a little less like a weapon, like I'm a man that matters." Lambert was selfish though, so he pushed. "Don't have to touch you . . . Fucking won't . . . If you ever wanted me to . . . I would. Wanted to touch me I'd let you. Won't fucking hurt you Marshmalo. Won't ever be . . . Would work to make you forget them."  
"You don't . . . Want to punish me?"  
"No." That answer was simple but he pushed because a question like that deserves more than a one word response. "What would I punish you for?"  
"Being an Alpha."  
 _'Don't be an asshole.'_ He tried to make sense of her sentence that she had said so quietly.  
"The . . . Monsters . . . They were so angry . . . At Alphas for having power, abusing it, abusing them. They took out that anger on us. The ones they could have their way with . . . They were bitter and hurt and . . . Wanted an Alpha to pay for it."  
 _'Stop growling.'_ He tried to quell the rage shaking in his chest.  
"Is it because I'm willing to be the . . . Receiving member? Not right-"  
"So long as you're not fucking dying I won't touch you without permission." He reigned in his push. Knowing more of what trauma she was harboring he could understand, relate, they didn’t see her as a person, just a despised animal, he could treat her with respect, treat her as someone of value. "If you ever . . . Feel comfortable . . . I'd . . . I'm selfish Marshmalo I'd want . . . You every way I could have you. Every once in a while I'm fucking lazy just want to lay there and take it." Lambert was coming to accept that his mixed bag desires were allowed but he still felt a bit of a need to pad them.  
"Oh I bet you look so good all comfortable and lounging for it. Like a well stretched cat." At this Lambert's eyes got wide. He'd had sex at almost every angle, in positions that were murder on his joints, it had always been fast and frenzied, tense, fucking angry, he'd never gone slow, relaxed, comfortable. _'Fuck_.' He wanted it, wanted it bad.  
"You . . . Seem pleased with that idea." She could see how bad he wanted it.  
"Not. . . ." He was supposed to be nursing her back to health not popping fucking erections. He was supposed to be showing he had restraint, respect, this was not a strong first showing. "Sorry. I'll . . . Walk it off." He stood and took a few steps back.  
"It really wasn't fair was it?" She didn't seem angry which meant he hadn't fucked it up too terribly.  
"What?"  
"I was able to see you pleased and that was wonderful. You didn't get the same."  
"Uh Huh." He knew where she was headed and he wanted her to fucking get there.  
"Would you like to?" It was too sleepy to be a purr but it was still good fucking stuff.  
"You . . . Should be resting." He said the right words but he was fucking nodding, sitting back down. "You'll sleep better after?" He tried to rationalize this irrational turn of events.  
"Be an asshole Berty not a nag." She moved aside some of the blankets. "I . . . I'm selfish too. I want . . . You to look and not touch." It was a test.  
"Fuck." It was a little messed up, little cruel but a little fun, Lambert liked besting her, proving he could do what she thought he couldn't.

Malo wasn't fucking stupid she was trying to convince herself that Lambert could be trusted, she wanted proof. He wedged his hands under his ass and she pulled down the oversized night trousers. Anger did flare for a second, seeing some of those scars, knowing the damage they did beyond the flesh. "Tell me Marshmalo . . . Bout lounging for it." He let his mind travel imagined kissing up her legs, licking at her thighs, running his glands over those bite marks, as if his scent could erase their hurt.

"You'd have had me first Berty, you'd be sweaty from your efforts, smelling of a mix of us, I'd run my tongue right up that spine of yours-" He was hearing her words but his eyes were entranced by her twirling fingers, studying them like dance steps, imagine being able to replicate them with his tongue. If he was allowed to touch her, have her he'd do that first and second and third, he'd want her to be silly and soppingly pleased with him. "I couldn't get a good look last time, at you stretching yourself so I'd have to learn you, search you, find all your happiest spots, wouldn't be satisfied till your were squirming on my fingers. Bet you'd moan wonderfuly." He was listening less and less to the actual words, more to her breaths, he much preferred this rasp to that of the day's earlier death rattle. He wanted her not on her back, he wanted her to ride him, wanted them to be sitting into one another so he could devour those heady breaths. "Then slow, I'd inch in Lambert, not as lazy as you but close, let you take me in, tight and taut, let it burn so nicely, so slowly." He wanted her hands in his hair, wanted her to pull a little bit, hold him in fucking place as they rocked. "I'd brace my hands on those broad fucking shoulders Lambert, kneed any tension out with each thrust."  
"Fuck." He wanted to come, wanted them to come together, wanted her to say his name in shout, proud to have him.  
"You'd roll those wonderful hips of yours Lambert right into this plush nest of yours, I'd give you the force you need to get that friction. Then I'd lend a helpful hand." Malo was buying him a new pair of trousers, this pair was getting sticky with slick and in seconds there'd be spend. "Kissing you all over Berty, drowning in your scent. I know you like getting things over with, would want you to finish first, go like jelly under me. I could stay in there forever and I'd be bereft as I pulled out before-" She took in a big breath, her eyes fluttered, he stared as she shook a little with release.  
"Out?" He wanted to tackle her, keep her under him, scent her, keep her warm, safe, he'd kill anything who dared take these dueling fantasies from him.  
"Rub it into your skin Berty, let mint linger all over you." They had been a good fucking pair of trousers.  
"Marshmalo?" When he finally stopped swallowing and grunting over his handless completion he got greedy for something he wanted.  
"Yes?"  
"You ever see how Dandelion runs his hand through Geralt's hair?"  
"Yes."  
"If you ever . . . That's what I want first . . . Never has to happen but if you ever touch me, that first." He saw her eyes that were good and glossy get a bit anxious.  
"Stay . . . On your hands Lambert." She was on her knees shuffling over to him.  
"Won't move. Fucking promise." It was so slow, her hand reaching out. Lambert could hardly stand it but he was still as shit, he did not want to spook her, lose her trust. At first it just rested atop his head like she was petting a good dog but after a few second's pause her fist clenched in his hair, sharp and firm. "Like that. Just the fuck like that." It was just as he had pictured it, felt fucking fantastic.  
"Don't . . . Move." She sounded angry at being scared again. Lambert wasn't moving, stopped fucking blinking, was he breathing? She leaned in, her grip tightened in his hair, holding him straight and still as she pressed her lips against his. It was a shit kiss, just lips on lips, brief, she was fast to pull back from his face. It didn't matter the quality of the kiss though, because it answered a burning question.  
"Mint." His tongue slipped out getting the remnants of the taste. "You need to learn how to kiss better." He teased.  
"I'll need someone to teach me." That caused a growl in Lambert's throat. Not anyone, him, he wanted it to be him. "I have to warn you Berty I'm a slow learner."  
"Good thing I'm patient as shit." It felt good as shit to laugh together again. She let go of his hair and slunk back into the nest.

"Not tonight?"  
"Don't say shit that's not a question as a question. Confuses people. Let me know when you want a lesson." Labert stood to get changed out of his ruined clothes.  
"Do you want your nest back? I can walk proper to my bed now."  
"Big nest. Can sleep in there without touching you. If you want your bed that's-" It wasn’t fine it would ruin a day that he had hoped would end on a high note, but if she wanted her fucking bed he wasn't going to say she couldn't.  
"I'd like to stay." With him, she wanted to stay in his room, in his nest, with him. He was grinning well and truly like an idiot as he found a spot inside, it smelled of well spent lust and mint. He rolled and stretched and scented but he was always aware, never quite touching her. "Tomorrow will be awkward."  
"Today was enough drama what the fuck could happen tomorrow that would compare?" He was yawning into a pillow.  
"Well I need to talk to Eskel. Things are a bit different now."  
 _'Fuck.'_ Whatever awkwardness she was imagining wasn't enough. He had to hope that Eskel wouldn't out Lambert and his ingenious plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the recovery from near death and the activity afterwards are unrealistic and expedited but I already draw stuff out too long, somethings gotta give or this fic will be forever.


	8. Far from home

His eyes cracked open at the sound of movement. She was on, nearly in, the furthest corner of the nest. This wasn't fixing bagged rain, this would take a while. "Ran me fucking ragged Marshmalo. Told you winter is when I'm lazy. Gonna get some food and just fuck about, try not to get yourself killed." Lambert stretched long with a yawn. He would help her, be there for her but he wasn't about to change who he was, a lazy asshole.  
"Berty. What's your favorite breakfast?" She was smiling from her far corner, working her way out of the nest. "I'll make it for you."  
"Don't got a favorite." He shrugged, gods she looked horrible but she was his horrible thing. "You should sleep more I'll-"  
"Not _so_ helpless. I want to make you something you'd like. I'd like for us to be . . . Even." She paused to see if he understood what she was saying.  
"If you want to make me breakfast in bed, ain't gonna fucking stop-" He had been so focused on Malo that he hadn't heard it.  
"You!" The bard would've kicked in the door if he wasn't concerned about scuffing his well crafted boots.  
"Me?" Malo was standing a bit awkward and out of place like she was caught somewhere she shouldn't be.  
"You can't do that to us again!" Jaskier was far too close, not maliciously it was just the bard had such a poor concept of personal space. "You can't leave us!" Lambert could hear Malo's heartbeat spike. It was a bit odd, if it wasn't causing her cart loads of dread it would be almost fucking funny.  
"You can leave in spring Malo, you're not a prisoner. You're just shit in the snow. You'd make a fine ice sculpture I guess." It was because as close as Lambert kept her he was also pushing her away, keeping her at length and that was comforting, what she needed, space. That's what made Lambert somehow less terrifying than the bard. It really was fucking funny, and honestly a bit warming to the wolf who had long accepted being a terror that was tolerated by humans. Though that did put a fucking question in his head that he had no clue how to tackle. Would she go back to her house in spring? Go back to being alone? Would _he_ go back to being alone, fuck he didn't care about alone but . . . He'd gotten used to having someone to be angry with. _'Not the fucking time for that.'_ They'd just gotten to that threshold, to admitting there was want between them, he wasn't clingy enough to start fantasizing about having her year round.  
"We care about you Malo." Jaskier was still very close and then he fucked up, again it was with the best of intentions, he wanted Malo to know that there were people that cared if she went off and got herself killed, but he shouldn't have fucking hugged her.  
"OFF!" She shoved at the bard with a toothy snarl. Her eyes were huge, cagey with fear and anger, she paced towards him a few steps then backed away with a purpose.  
"Sorry. Malo I'm so sorry!" Jaskier backstepped so fast it was a miracle he didn't trip over his own heels. Malo had fists full of hair as angry breathes left her lungs. Lambert could smell that wet salt that wouldn't fall.  
 _'Fuck.'_ It was a cruel loop Malo found herself in. Omegas made her scared due to what the monsters had done to her, her Alpha instincts warped fear into anger, which made her want to lash out, doing so would make her as bad as the Alphas she had taken the punishment on behalf of. It was feeding itself, making a somewhat irrational phobia something all too tangible.  
"Breakfast? Thoughts?" Malo's fists were clenched tight, staring at the floor. "Lambert says he doesn't have a favorite which . . . You really _should_ have a favorite Lambert." She looked up after a time, her eyes weren't _as_ manic. "I'll make a couple things . . . Tell me your favorite from them?" She wanted an excuse to leave the room that didn't make her seem weak. Another less angry than most memory hit Lambert.

His mother tried, she really did, to protect her son, not just from drunken fists but from . . . Despair, unhappiness. She tried so hard to smile for the boy, say kind words, keep him bedded and fed and . . .she wanted despite their lives being shit, being a living nightmare, she wanted her son to know she loved him more than the sun and the moon. Sometimes loving each other was hard. The boy being bitter that she had cursed him into existence, sired him with that cruel heavy handed lush, she seeing some of the features of her abuser every time she looked at the child. Other times though, it was easy, the man of the house out on some business or bender. The boy would have scrounged together some coin off of fish he'd caught, his mother would buy milk and a long stale loaf of sweet bread and she'd spend the day cooking, chatting with her son as if their lives weren't in danger, it was a lie but it was a warm lie, a sweet tasting lie.

"Do you . . . Have you ever made bread pudding?" He said it wish a shrug because it didn't _really_ matter, he wasn't that boy anymore, he didn't have those same deep connections that humans did to preferences and favorites, he liked and disliked things but he bore it all. He could lie though, Malo wanted a bit of what he got from her, the ability to help someone outside of what you were trained for, made for. He didn't _need_ her for anything, witchers were self reliant to the point of parody but he liked the thought, liked that she wanted to take care of him, not always but small things like this.  
"It won't be as good as your mother's but I can-"  
"How'd you know-" He hadn't recounted the memory out loud had he?  
"I doubt witchers make many a bread pudding Berty and you looked to be remembering pretty far back." She wasn't stupid, it was hard to infer a lot out of witcher's mostly stoic faces but he'd seen the bard manage it with Geralt and his grunts. Malo was catching on quick, she did have the benefit of the fact that Lambert lived a bit louder than his brothers.  
"Did you you want me to come with you?" It had become a bit of a habit, when they weren't at odds, for him to linger around, no one guarded a door against a non existent threat quite like Lambert.  
"No I . . . Want to be alone if that's ok." This got a sad little sigh from Jaskier who really was fucking sorry, Lambert could see apology oozing out his fucking pores.  
"Got shit to do anyway." Lambert didn’t have anything absolutely pressing, but bombs weren't going to build themselves.  
"Lambert?"  
"What?"  
"I'd like to . . . Try one more time? Real quick before all of-"  
 _'Try?'_ He didn’t know what she wanted to try but he placed his hands up to the sky. "Question." This was fucking important. He watched as she took cautious steps towards him.  
"Yes?"  
"My mug ain't a lot but. . . What do you see?" Even as a child, even in the eyes of a woman that loved him more than anything, that _he_ loved, he was just wrong enough. He could do it again, he could _bear_ anything but he wanted to know, wanted the dignity of hearing it straight to his fucking face. When she looked at the monster slayer did shadows of monster lurk around him?  
"An asshole." She smiled confidently.  
"Malo I'm being serious." It wasn't a growl but it was stern.  
"So am I. Trust me I should know, from one asshole to another."  
"You?" Maybe she was confusing being loud for beingan asshole.  
"I didn't save you because it was the right thing to do. I did it because if you died so close to my home the wolves would come snooping, then, I hadn't talked to someone in so long, I let you stay longer than I should have. You respected my boundaries because it worked for you for one reason then another and gods if you didn't remind me of-"  
"Malo. Am I allowed to touch you?" His hands were still up in the air like some sorry hostage. Jaskier let out a whine of still super fucking sorry.  
"I . . .Yes." Her smile was nervous but nervous was far better than scared. Lambert’s hands came to her cheeks, she didn't feel as cold to the touch as he would have thought.  
 _'Humans blush.'_ He remembered seeing her cheeks pink up before, he liked that look on her. "I . . . Might be . . . Am an Asshole but-" He didn't know what he really wanted to say, how he felt. "I'm not complicated. Fast and angry that's me." Why did he need to be holding her face for this? He wasn't fucking sure but Malo was patient, just looking up at him with that nervous smile.  
"Not complicated but not _just_ fast and angry. You're funny too."  
"Right." He should do something other than fucking blink.  
"Good at fixing things." She added.  
"You make a fucking list?"  
"You've got wonderful hips." Was she trying to make him blush? He'd already warned her that was an impossibly.  
"You're forgetting something." He remembered why he had taken her face in his palms.  
"You let me borrow your jacket sometimes?"  
"Better at kissing than you."  
"Lambert that's just rude." Jaskier had been watching this entire exchange enthralled but he just had to interject on behalf of chivalry and some vauge understanding of decorum.  
"Rude. Fucking honest. Whose to say?"  
"That's right! A show off, that's what you are." It sounded like a tease, it sounded like permission. Lambert brought his face closer to hers.  
"No one likes a show off. No one likes an asshole." His jaw was set something angry, something confused.  
" _I_ like you Berty." This kiss was . . . Better, still chaste as a church mouse but it wasn't reluctant, it was purposeful. That's all he fucking wanted, was to be liked . . . For all of what he was, not just in parts, not just when he was useful, it felt so fucking good that she knew he was an asshole and still fucking liked him. She wasn't staring at him like some puzzle that needed to be solved, he might've been complicated to others, fuck to himself but she just didn't need to pull apart the layers and learn him, she took him as a whole, liked him as a whole.  
 _'Fuck.'_ She liked a show off, one of these days he was going to have to show off, she was patient as fuck, waiting for some display he'd been bragging about. He let his hands slide to the base of her skull pulling her closer, tipping her head back, smiling as he felt those simply pressed lips open just a bit. Maybe she did know how kissing fucking worked. He tried to make a promise of things to come without just ravaging her mouth with his tongue, he slowed himself down, never bruting at hers but turning corners and making agile work of the space, he could do laps, he could scale walls. He was rewarded with a pretty little moan of someone entertained, enticed. He rewarded her back, let those hips she wondered about graze up against hers.  
"Geralt! Geralt we have a problem!" The moment was ruined by a throaty squawk from the bard, who barely acknowledged the breaking of the kiss to storm out of the room.  
"What . . . Did I do something . . . To upset him?"  
"If you have I'm sure I'll fucking hear about it." Lambert's hands strolled down to her waist, holding it. "This . . . Ok?" He wasn't sure how much touching she could tolerate in one go, he was sure he was getting selfish, being greedy, he was an asshole after all.  
"Yes but-" His hands left her, he stepped out of her space. He'd never fucking recover if she said it eyes open, to stop, he always had to be faster than that.  
"But what?"  
"I don't know why. I'm still . . . Still think that way . . . That it's not safe to be touched. You saw me with Jaskier . . . That's not normal . . . And not going away."  
"I . . . Had help fixing your bagged rain Marshmalo. Maybe if . . . Malo go make the second best bread pudding and we'll think of something." Maybe if he brainstormed with his brothers they could figure out how-  
"You can't fix me Lambert."  
"Don't want to _fix_ you. If you stopped being batty probably would stop letting me kiss you." He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to think of how to explain it. "Things about you make me angry . . . You also make me less fucking angry. Parts bout us make you . . . That weird fucking terror tantrum . . . Maybe there's parts of us that can make it less."  
"I don't think-"  
"Can you atleast not think _after_ breakfast Marshmalo. The next person to barge in that door's gonna be Vesemir to complain that you didn't wake with the roosters to deliver him an omelet."  
"I . . . Can give your poor ears a rest Berty. You can tell me. You saved me so you lot wouldn't have to take back kitchen duty." She was making her way to the door but Lambert grabbed her wrist. Her eyes flared in instinct.  
"Sorry." He released it, this was harder, no touching had been a simple rule, sometimes touching was nuanced and Lambert was not fucking nuanced. "Can make my own fucking food. Can stitch myself together. Don't need you alive Malo-" Gods this did not sound as good as it had in his fucking head. "Want you alive. Dead bodies don't laugh, can't blush . . . Kissing is frowned upon. Like the parts of you that show you're living." The parts that made him feel alive.  
"Let me go make you breakfast Lambert." Why was such a platonic sentence making his chest ache? His skin squirm? She'd made half his fucking meals this winter, just because it wasn't turnip porridge and it was something _for_ him shouldn't have meant so much. But it meant _so_ fucking much. He was going to reherse in his head how not to be an asshole, how to say thanks without a tease or stating that her being alive was marginally above average. He didn't need her to care for him, he wasn't fucking weak but this wasn't caring it was spoiling and he was allowed to like that.

"Lambert?" Geralt had found him in the alchamey lab, tinkering with nonsense and thinking of breakfast that was taking far longer than he remembered.  
"Let me guess. We need to fucking talk don't we? Want me to braid your hair?" Lambert threw a wonky shell at Geralt's head, which his brother shooed away.  
"Yes." Then Geralt shook his head, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. "To talking."  
"Where's Eskel? He doesn't want to get in on this?" Which did remind Lambert that Malo had spoken of discussing recent developments with the level headed wolf. Lambert groaned as his prospective conversations grew.  
"It's personal." Geralt didn't shrug, didn't scowl, he was an ivory statue.  
"Well you know me. Big into emotional breakthroughs. The fuck can I do for you?"  
"Jaskier's heat is next week."  
"I know how time works." Did Geralt think he had forgotten? "He want a nest in your room like last winter?" Lambert was the best there was, well he was better than Jaskier who would and had somehow dislocated a shoulder in trying to assemble something of quality. His first year going through heat in Kaer Morhen, just because it was a big space didn't mean he needed to climb the rafters, but he had. _'Fucking circus is what he wants.'_  
"That. But things are different this year." Geralt didn't beat around the bush.  
"Malo's not going to try and do anything Geralt. Even if she was that sort of Alpha she's been farming those fucking surpressants, she won't-"  
"That's not what Jaskier is worried about. I trust her for now." He added because Geralt really had gotten over his earlier pack protection coldness, he wasn't ever going to be warm and fuzzy but he didn't see Malo as the threat he used to. "You know he doesn't like to be locked in during his heats. Reminds him too much of Lettenhove."  
"Sure." Lambert had made the mistake of offering the armory that he locked himself in during his own heats to Jaskier and the bard had outright wept, heartbroken the witchers would hide him instead of embrace him in all of his glory. "What's that got to do with Malo?"  
"Once in it, I can be everything Jaskier needs, I can take care of him myself."  
"I get it. You're an Alpha sent from the elder gods themselves. What of it?" Lambert snorted because in two weeks time it would be Lambert's turn and there would come a point where he'd crave such a diety, demand it, beg plead and pray whatever it took for his organs not to cook. That was a time away, he didn't need to stroke Geralt or his cock just yet. _'Fuck.'_ He would plead for Malo this time. He'd have to add a padlock, fucking swallow a key, he would claw to get to her and have no regard for nuanced stipulations about touching. What did this have to with Jaskier's heat though? Other than the fact that Malo would get to see the bard swan dive majestically into a beautiful heat with his Alpha and then a week later hear Lambert howl and haunt the keep with his wrecked cannonball into carnage. _'Hey atleast if I break my arm this time she'll set it instead of one of the oafs.'_  
"It's the build he's worried about."  
"What about it?"  
"He's just going to get . . . More handsy as the days pass." That hug had been a true heartfelt slip up but it was also an omen. As the days neared Jaskier would not even acknowledge personal space existed. Touching the men of Kaer Morhen openly and often. Laying his head in laps, caressing arms, scenting as if it was going out of style, kisses as breezy handshakes. If Malo was . . . Around and alive that likely would go for her too.  
"You want me to-"  
"He doesn't want her to be locked away either it makes him-"  
"He is always emotional. He'll get over it. She'll be fine, I'll keep her company, she won't mind. Malo's got her own shit but she's real fucking patient with other's-" This was a simple fix why was Geralt looking at him like they had to beat a redanian king in chess.  
"If you're keeping _her_ company you won't be keeping _him_ company, he wants company. I tell him time and time again he's got bad taste, he wants your company." Well fuck Lambert couldn't split himself in two. Yes Lambert normally took the brunt of Jaskier's pre heat . . . Cuddling but that's just because it got Lambert out of chores and he was able to keep it in his fucking trousers when Jaskier had hands all over him, Geralt was stoic but he wasn't a saint. Yes Lambert would generally join in on the heat itself, but that was because some witchers were convinced it would make Lambert’s heat less of a bloodbath, it never did, some bards thought it was owed to Lambert because he had been there first, it wasn't fucking owed, nothing was owed in this world. All these people never asked Lambert, or rather they did but Lambert didn't want to hear them, didn't want to have an opinion, he wanted to help the bard so he did, heats were to be beared and lifted like the curses they were, there was no place for preference.  
"Make Eskel his fucking scratching post."  
"Eskel will be there. Like he always is, for all of us." That was true, the wolves really did get closer during the heats, though Lambert hated the experience too much to acknowledge that. All the young witchers rallied as if it was some beast they were fighting, because it was. Vesemir did not participate in Jaskier's heat, the bard had worked at that Boulder on the old wolf's shoulder just enough to have him call the bard by name but he'd never _be_ a wolf. That was the only fucking reason the old man tried to instruct and dictate through Lambert's, old habits die hard, old witchers die never apparently. Lambert shook his head violently, he always asked for Vesemir at some point, that's how he knew he'd truly lost control of all his faculties. "I promised her no one would fucking touch her. I . . . She needs to believe me when I say that."  
"Maybe if you're there . . . Defending . . . Fixing . . . She'll be able to believe Jaskier." Lambert's head thunked into the table beneath him. "What?"  
"More talking." Lambert let out a truly anguished groan. "Don't you people ever shut the fuck up?"  
"It's your fault you found a girl that doesn't want to be touched. What else is there to do but talk?"  
"Actually I found him." Malo had snuck up on them. Lambert's face had been burried in a table reeking of sulfur, what was Geralt's excuse?  
"Malo don't take this the wrong way but we . . . This is OUR home." Geralt had no excuse, he didn't care if she heard, wanted her to, he did not beat around the bush. He wasn't doing it to be an asshole, Geralt was just doing what he thought he needed to keep his home . . . Home.  
"Yeah the giant wolf tapestry was the first tip off. Bread pudding?" She had two servings which one was for Lambert and likely the other had been meant for her but she held it up to Geralt with a smile.  
"We . . . Understand you've been through a lot. Understand that things like that don't heal overnight but you can't expect us to change overnight either. Jaskier is upset over what he did, he wants desperately for . . . Shooting you likely gave off the wrong impression but it's important to him that you like him, that you don't hate him for how he is. You're . . . Like him . . . He would like a friend here that's maybe a bit more-"  
"Human?"  
"Yes." Lambert had never considered that. The witchers were somewhat used to humans recoiling from their touch, the bard wasn't. To compound the issue Jaskier was a fucking people person, unlike the witchers who could go days without talking let alone touching, simply because there wasn't a need. As Geralt stated Jaskier loved company, it might've stung in a different way how Malo, another human. . . Feared him. Jaskier wouldn't be emotional during the heat, just a blob of want but in the build he'd likely be more sensitive, Malo's dismissal while not personal might be taken as such. Lambert was a bit torn, he'd fucking promised up and down this mountain that no one would touch her. He hadn't really thought of what that meant for everyone else. He couldn't retract now, nor did he think Malo should have to conced her comfort for Jaskier but . . . How did they get through this with no one getting hurt? Did he have to pick? Why was this his fucking problem?  
"I still don't want to touch anyone or be touched . . . Without permission."  
"He doesn't-" Geralt was quick to swoop to the bard's defense.  
"Do it on purpose I know. He is a kind hearted little siren." That didn't mean shit though, Malo had one fucking rule. "He went about it the right way though." Malo's smile turned something cocky and neither witcher understood. "He went and came to me about it instead of the wolves trying to solve every problem on the continent alone, perhaps I could learn a thing or two." The smile went a bit self depricating, a bit scolding and maybe the witchers' heads ducked as such, just a bit. "I explained to him I will react . . . Poorly each time, that's not changing but if he warns me before he does it . . . I will be less . . . Likely to _over_ react."  
"But-"  
"Yes not on purpose I heard you." Malo wasn't shy or shrinking, she was deliberate and tactile, patient. "We are on opposite ends of the spectrum . . . Things will happen. you can't protect your helpless humans from ever being sad or angry. I've told Lambert he can't fix me and I have no intention of Jaskier fixing himself . . . We just are all a bit rough round the edges, scrapes will happen."  
"Hmm." Geralt thought he could solve the world's problems, fuck he _did_ solve the world's problems, but this wasn't the world . . . This was home, and home had to be handled differently, together.  
"Bread pudding?" She help up the bowl again.  
"Thanks. I'm not . . . You're growing on us Malo." Geralt had no more words so he simply. . . Left. It was an olive branch if Lambert ever fucking saw one and Malo seemed to be quite fucking pleased. He wondered if that meant anything to Malo, if she would start thinking of this less of a winter getaway and more of a home.

Though maybe Malo would reconsider when she realized how close this home unit was. It became clear as the days to Jaskier's heat dwindled. Jaskier had his chin digging into Lambert's shoulder, hand against chest, nose against chin as he told some story that in no way necessitated the level of enthusiasm coming from the fucking pits of the bard's soul. "Uh huh." Lambert had tuned him out practicly at the start of dinner but no party seemed to notice or care.  
"Really?!" Jaskier beemed.  
"Wait really?" Malo spat out whatever she had been drinking.  
"Fucking . . . Maybe?" He could have admitted he was blatantly not listening but he doubled down instead.  
"Malo you would . . . We'd be respectful Malo I swear."  
"There's nothing respectful about a heat Jaskier." Malo scoffed but she wasn't looking down on the act, just laughing at any dillusional polish Jaskier was trying to give it.  
 _'Fuck!'_ Lambert’s eyes got wide. What had he fucking agreed to.  
"That Malo should join the festivities." Eskel clarified with a grin. Lambert glowered at Eskel who clearly could've stepped in but didn't. Honestly Eskel had been odd lately, he was always quiet but he had been more so recently, he didn't seem angry or upset just away from the group. Maybe Eskel now felt like some bystander, which was fucked up, this was his home too. Maybe Lambert could no longer shrug off Malo's request for the three of them to speak but for some reason Lambert got cagey and defensive at the prospect. _'Later. Active fire now.'_ Lambert was no juggler, why the fuck did he have to care about everyone's feelings at the same time? "Stop calling them _festivities_ Jaskier you know I hate that. Malo can't be there and you know it." How far gone was the bard that he in anyway thought that was a good idea.  
"I won't touch you or Geralt in the way you'll be asking me to. Plus I'd rather like Geralt not to murder me because he loves you so." Finally someone was on Lambert's side about something.  
"Won't you feel cold and alone?" Jaskier had a loopy cadence about him, his heat would likely hit tonight if not early morning.  
"I _like_ feeling cold and alone." Malo shrugged and Lambert while not surprised by that answer did frown a bit, it was fucking sad if you thought about it, so he didn't.  
"Does that mean Lambert can't come?" Jaskier was pouting. Outside Lambert’s face was the same miserable half scowl it always was but inside it was the wolf's turn to beam, he had a pretty good idea of what Malo's answer was going to be but fuck if he didn’t want to hear it.  
"I'm weird not _insane_. I'm not going to try to tell Lambert that he can or can't do anything. I like when Lambert is happy . . . If he's happy in your heat have fun." It was perfect, it wasn’t permission because he didn't need anyone's permission to do anything, he wasn't claimed by her but it was . . . Encouragement, to do just what he was comfortable with, just what made him happy.  
"We'll make him so happy Malo I promise."  
"Sure you will." There was a bit of a dimness to her words that caught Lambert off guard, he hated that sound, thought they were rid of it.  
"Don't . . ." Jaskier seemed to get a moment of clarity and stopped himself from pushing.  
"Do you like fruit salad?" Malo abruptly changed the subject and the wolves all blinked hard at the whiplash.  
"I _love_ fruit salad!" Jaskier was back into a loopy pleased place.  
"Good. Fruit is good during heats or so I'm told. I'll make that for you Jaskier." She had a smile but that was dim too.  
 _'Fuck.'_ He was having a hard enough time juggling loud in his fucking face emotions Lambert couldn't be bothered with this subtle nuanced nonsense.

"Lambert!" It was Eskel fucking pounding on his door which meant one thing, Geralt had his hands full and Jaskier was in heat.  
"Fucking coming." Lambert was shuffling out of his nest popping some crick in his neck. "Marshmalo. I'm going to go alright?" She too had been stirred by the heavy fisted knocking.  
"Yup." She yawned wiping her eyes.  
"Touch you before I go?" She wouldn't want to touch him after, least not till after a few baths.  
"Yes." He actually found through trial and error it helped to have her face in his palms, she liked knowing where his hands were, made her sigh a little into his mouth. It wasn't just as equally for the fact that he like the feel of her blush under his thumbs. Her hand threaded long through his hair and his grumble was one of lacking but it had been a tease, on their trail back she gripped tight the way she knew him to like. He broke away satisfied that he was a fucking excellent teacher and Malo was a slow learner. He opened the door and expected to be on his way but Eskel lingered and Lambert felt a tightness in his chest.

"I'm not carrying you there bridal style. The fuck are you waiting for?"  
"Sure you don't want to come?" The tightness became a vice, Lambert’s heart was going to pop like a fucking grape.  
"She doesn't have to go."  
"Doesn't have to. I'm asking if she'd _like_ to. Could keep me company while you three keep yourselves company." Eskel was calm as anything, polite, why did Lambert want to punch him in the face so fucking bad.  
"What do you sit in the corner and play dice?" Malo was confused which was fair. Heats all had the same very primal theme but they were unique . . . Jaskier's were a three part play. It was at first just closeness, just kissing and touching everyone, just heavy petting and feeling . . . Well to Lambert it felt sweaty but Jaskier wanted it so maybe there was some appeal he didn't see. Then it got . . . Affectionate, just two idiots wrapped up in how much they absolutely adored each other, Lambert could just ignore it, words were words and kissing was wanting, love making was just feeling things out so you didn't pull something. He could have all those things thrust on his senses by the bard and it didn't mean much of anything, a somewhat erotic white noise, Eskel didn't participate in that part, Lambert at first had figured maybe Geralt had asked for it that way, not wanting something outside the non threat that was another omega to be so close to his mate during heat but that wasn't it. Because Eskel came back for the worst of it, for the messy finale with fireworks and fluids and it didn't bother Geralt who Jaskier's mouth and hands found, he got a bit pushy if the bard lavished a bit too much praise on a brother instead of him but that was more a pride thing, more a challenge Geralt thrived under than combated with force. It was Eskel that had an issue not with contact but maybe the compassion of it, he couldn’t separate the two like Lambert could and so he just separated himself.  
"Something like that. You tend to run off if Lambert isn't guarding the exit." At this Lambert might have audibly growled because was Eskel right? Had he been looking at this wrong? Did she feel prompted to flee and Lambert just kept guilting her into staying? He thought he had been protecting her, keeping her safe but was it something far more selfish, was he trapping her? She _liked_ him, she said so, looked at him so but she could like him and hate his home, hate was a stronger emotion, would eat fondness alive.  
"Come on." Lambert grabbed the back of Eskel's collar and yanked, _hard_.

"See no one has forgotten about you." Geralt's hair looked static and erratic as he managed to pull his face away from Jaskier for a moment.  
"Well you look twice as handsome and twice as miserable as usual."  
"Which one of us?" Eskel had a valid question as always, Lambert was angry but Eskel looked . . . Lost.  
"Both? Here. Here. I'll fix it." Jaskier was blushed all over, it was different than Malo's cheeks, excess, heat, there was no focus. Lambert and Eskel each sat at a side of the intertwined couple. Fists firmly grabbing into Geralt's chest, Jaskier pushed himself up, he kissed Eskel first leaning in, nearly losing his balance, Geralt had to hold his waist. Then he turned to their right and kissed Lambert. Jaskier knew how to kiss rightly, it wasn’t church mouse chaste it was forceful and passionate and want, just no focus but that was alright, expected, that was fucking heat.

Jaskier was a performer by trade, an artist by spirt. He felt most comfortable with an audience with applause, that's what Lambert and Eskel's roles were. Jaskier was all about crowd participation, he wanted his spectators to sing with him, be just as pleased with his minstrations as he was. Then there was his muse, that's where all Jaskier's focus went. He performed for all of them, kissing and licking, grabbing and stroking but all his focus was saved for Geralt, any moment of lucid clarity was spent explaining to Geralt how much he was loved, what a treasure he was, how Jaskier would spend all his days with him.

Hours passed and heat rose, Jaskier had found a spot to camp right atop Geralt and had been riding the man something painful for both of them, he should've stopped, should have rested but Jaskier never learned or never cared that in a days time his body wouldn't let him stop, let him rest, he'd by crying for more and less. It was this time that Jaskier enjoyed best, when he could still really enjoy his muse, focus on him. Lambert was lost in the white noise of it all, at some point Jaskier's fingers had found their way into his hair and they were tugging and pulling with each rock but while it didn't feel bad felt fucking nice, it wasn’t the same, wasn't how Malo's fingers felt, no sharp shock to go along with the pull. Almost as if sensing an audience member was drifting Jaskier's fingers trailed down Labert's temples, long his jaw then with no resistance past his lips. Jaskier's own lips were crushed against Eskel's, they were an odd . . . Family was definitely not the appropriate word for what this was. There were footsteps coming, then a small tap on the door. Lambert surprisingly didn't feel shame or panic, maybe it was the heavy haze of heat but if the door opened and Malo saw them Lambert would have . . . Kept helping his . . . Pack seemed a bit better. "What is it?" Jaskier had noticed eyes drift from him to the door.  
"Food." Malo sounded casual as anything, if the thick air of sex had any affect on her she didn't let on.  
"Malo?! Malo?! Please come in. Join-"  
"Maybe later Jaskier." The fuck did that mean? A day went on that way before he got anything close to an answer.

Jaskier had passed out on Geralt's chest, well his face had fallen into Geralt's chest, he more accurately passed out on Geralt's knot. The white wolf was murmuring exhausted praise past the sweaty mop of hair into the bard's ears. Lambert had his legs up and over Jaskier's, laying, lounging really, arms behind his head against the wall of another well crafted nest, half asleep, calm clear breaths. His eyes bothered to open as Eskel stood. "You . . . Alright Eskel?" Lambert was trying . . . Trying not to be an asshole.  
"Fine." Eskel nodded but he was scratching at his face, he was uncomfortable.  
"Got fucking good at talking lately . . . Listening. The fuck is up?"  
"Just want . . ." There was that fucking tap again.  
"Food." Before he could hear Malo's heels turn the door was open, Eskel had opened it.  
"Please don't leave." The fuck was happening?  
"Everything . . . Ok Elk?" Malo seemed again not at all alarmed by the nudity of it all, more taken a back by Eskel's . . . Plea? Lambert felt that tightness in his chest, it wasn’t anger . . . Not yet but it was getting ready to be.  
"Just till Jaskier wakes up? Stay till then?" This even broke Geralt's loving tribute to every inch of the bard.  
"I . . ." Malo didn't seem afraid just confused which no one could blame her for. "I won't touch-"  
"Can I just hold your hand?" The actual fuck? Lambert's chest continued to squeeze terribly but it never crested into anger, just held there painfully. "Don't want anymore just that." It sounded fucking genuine but who the fuck mid heat wanted just to hold hands? Was that a beta thing Lambert never learned? Or was this Eskel showing he could be a gentleman when the rest of them were filthy heathens?  
"What are you doing Eskel?" Lambert hissed.  
"SAVE THIS SHIT FOR LATER. THIS ISN'T FOR YOU." Geralt's voice was firm and commanding but the soft hands over Jaskier's ears were so counter intuitive.  
"Nothing . . . You're right." Eskel stated a bit forlorn but nodded.  
"Marshmalo are you . . . Will you come in?" Lambert heard how lost Eskel sounded, knew how shitty lost felt.  
"Yes." She had an I fucking told you so look on her face as she entered. Placing the food no one gave a shit about on some table to be forgotten. She had, she knew Eskel deserved . . . Fucking something. Thing of it was Malo wasn't fucking something and Lambert didn’t care if Eskel deserved her, Lambert couldn't give up happy, thankful, liked, he was selfish, he was an asshole.  
"Will you touch me?" There was no nerves this time, no kiss either, just and hand sharp and shocking in his hair, her eyes focused on him, actions that meant nothing to most but _everything_ to him. "Don't want to lose . . . " It wasn't just the actions. "You."  
"Stuck with me all winter Berty." Those focused eyes grew dim again.  
"Stuck with _us_." That was the worry. "Here for Dandelion right now. Needs us. Don't have to do anything you don't want, if . . . We'll talk about it later." He paused to stare at Eskel for a moment. "If you're alright with it. . . Hold Eskel's fucking hand?" Lambert watched her face closely, so fucking closely, fuck were her eyes dim. Did she feel used? Tossed around? He didn't mean it in that way. He wanted her to feel . . . Special, she was fucking special. He just didn't know how to word that properly, without a joke, without a shrug. "You don't fucking have to it was just-"  
"You don't." Eskel nodded from behind her, he might break skin if he clawed any harder at his face.  
"Malo you need to leave." Geralt sounded marginally apologetic but just as firm as before.  
"To quote Berty-" This kiss was as small as those before it but there was something different, something fun, it was playful a teasing little peck. "I don't _have_ to do shit." She let go of his hair, stepped away from Lambert and sat next to Eskel, she opened her palm and handed it to him.  
"You don't-" Eskel started but as he often was he was cut off.  
"Have to do shit." She nodded. Everyone watched with scrutiny as Eskel's fingers laced in hers, Malo did jolt at the initial touch but maybe because Eskel was a beta or maybe because Eskel was just fucking Eskel, she didn't look ready to throw a punch. It was the wolf's reaction that was more jarring, his shoulders just fucking fell, just tension that had been there so fucking long that had just been accepted as his posture went loose. Lambert's eyes were glued to the interlaced fingers, he was fairly certain he cracked a rib at some point, he was biting the inside of his cheek to the point he had to lap a little blood. One thought kept going through his head.  
 _'Never in a million years.'_ If she asked he'd allow her, sure made no difference, but that was the point. He was fairly fucking sure he'd never think to ask her for something like that. Girls liked stuff like that, things like that made people feel special, without words. What kind of asshole was he that he didn’t even consider that?  
"Sorry." That was Eskel apologizing not Lambert and gods if things weren't quiet and confusing.  
"We'll talk about it later. You're all here for Jaskier now." And that, when would that fucking stop? Malo was bright and crisp and fucking loud but she'd been dimming for days. She was upset about something but not upset enough to be angry so Lambert didn’t have the faintest fucking clue. Only another fifteen or so minutes passed in awkward silence, then for a while longer it wasn't words, it was just groans and whimpers and half asleep moans.

"Need you. Hurts for you." This was the part where the bard's over enthusiasm and lack of endurance showed. His body was still tired from all his earlier efforts but his instinct, his need was buzzing through his bones like a hornet.  
"I'm here." There Geralt was, there Geralt would stay. "Need water or-"  
"You. Please. More. Anything I'm . . . Hurts. It hurts." It wasn't painful to watch, Geralt would ease Jaskier's discomfort any way he could but maybe . . . A bit depressing in a way? How Jaskier was aching, the way Lambert would ache in a weeks time, it was suffering, albeit of all the ways to suffer there were technically worse, for nothing, there was no nursery in Kaer Morhen outside of Malo's green house. There was no breeding happening but Jaskier was twisting his body to the breaking point in search of something that would never happen, that he didn't _want_ to happen. Geralt did turn the bard onto his back and went about filling that hollow need. It wasn't long till pants of anguish were that of comfort and relief and the heat could continue to run it's course, burn it's way through the bard. It took a few more minutes till intelligible words found the bard. "What's . . . Malo . . . Is that Malo?" Jaskier's vision was likely blurred in haze as well as tears but he could fucking count, there was one more person in the room than there had been.  
"I can leave if you want me to Jaskier." The dimness was . . . It wasn't fucking gone it was nestled squarely in her eyes but she had buried it from her voice she sounded just . . . Oddly encouraging.  
"No! Stay! Please stay! Are you . . . Geralt was Eskel on my left or your left."  
"Same left." Geralt was humming something happy that the bard was in a talking mood.  
"Are you touching Eskel?" Jaskier's head popped up. "You are. You fucking are. Touching him when . . . When . . ." Lucidity was leaving as fast as it came.  
"Jaskier?" Malo's voice was feather soft.  
"What?!" Jaskier might've been out of his mind but he still found a way to be offended.  
"Do you know the first way Berty asked me to touch him?"  
"No. I . . . Geralt I need more of you need you to touch me . . . Need to feel you."  
"I am touching you." The happy hum left with the lucidity, Geralt was smirking for his bard but his body language read primed to attack Malo who was standing, advancing.  
"He asked for just how Dandelion runs his hands through Geralt's hair. Would you mind showing me? I want to make sure I've got it right."  
"You did?" Jaskier went from offended to flattered in a breath, smiling eagerly at Lambert.  
"Did." Lambert nodded. Though he didn't want Malo to take lessons, he knew Jaskier _played_ with Geralt's hair, Lambert didn’t want to be played with.  
"It's easy." Jaskier had two hands combing through Geralt's fully wrecked locks. "It's so . . . Just feels right." Jaskier was pulling Geralt's face down for hungry kisses.  
"He's lucky to have you Jaskier. You're doing so well, everyone is here for you, proud of you." This made Lambert's molars squeak, these words were so soft so doting, he absolutely hated them.  
"For me." Jaskier sounded like he might cry real fucking tears. Malo smelled of salted water that wouldn't fall. Lambert was going to vomit everywhere if this didn't end soon.  
"I won't touch you now. What with Geralt taking such good care of you." At this Geralt growled, it was half protective half promising, two Alphas so close during one omega's heat, this was as civil as it was going to get.  
"Always. Always will take care of you. Everywhere." That last worg hung on the awkward side of pleading, as if Geralt didn't believe it but desperately wanted Jaskier to.  
"You are. We're just too much art for the world!" It was a drunk sort of cackle. "Fuck Geralt I need . . . Your mouth, please it-" Not willing to hear how it hurt again Geralt moved them with efficiency. It was an odd look some would say, to see and omega atop a male Alpha, though Geralt was always more in every way. That and a cynical part of Lambert thought it was penance. One of Geralt's biggest fears was that he would lose Jaskier while out on a path, not to a drowner or a dragon, but to the world, to humans. Geralt try as he might couldn’t offer Jaskier everything a human Alpha could, children aside, safety was never guaranteed, respect, the masses jeered the wolf and his mate accordingly, stability, the cabinets in Kaer Morhen while not over flowing were a luxury not afforded on the road, there were days they did without, proper food, proper rest, their life wasn't proper and Geralt spent every day of winter trying to make that up to the bard. The idiot looked so determined so fucking devoted, hardly could take his eyes off the man he sometimes felt he had tricked into loving him. Lambert was twice as crafty as Geralt, had fucking saved Malo's life, could he trick Malo into following him come the thaw? "Lambert?" Jaskier's call was thin between gasps bringing the wolf out of his thoughts.  
"Yeah?"  
"Your mouth. Your lips I-"  
"Know it doesn't feel it but you only got one dick Dandelion and I know Geralt doesn't open his mouth as often as I do but the fucker's trying." The tease just got just the response he thought it would, a challenged grumble from Geralt's occupied throat, heavy palms pulling the back of the bard's hips forwards.  
"Here. Here. Please . . . Don't want to lose my voice."  
"Oh." Made sense that while Jaskier had no shame about his moans and cries he didn't want to over exert his weapon of choice. Lambert scooted within arms reach and that's all it took. Jaskier had pulled Lambert’s face towards his kissing him with a lack of focus that was . . . Fine, it was heat, Lambert didn’t mind being somewhat manhandled by the bard because it didn't feel like bowing or submitting, felt like helping and that was better than fine. He then felt Jaskier's hand, ride down his chest, his stomach, Jaskier was nothing if not proficient, he found Lambert's dick. Jaskier's fingers were agile and nimble and just corse enough at the tips that it wasn't long before Lambert was half snarling into Jaskier's mouth. Lambert's eyes fought to open because he was fucking curious, he knew how debauched this looked, this _was_ , he wanted to see if Malo was all talk, if she really understood that rules, morals and monogamy mattered very little during heat. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes up at the ceiling like they had been when Lambert had charged at her from the baths.  
 _'My fucking modesty has no bounds.'_ She was doing that for him, because she didn't know if she had permission to see him this open, this vulnerable, this swept up. He was sure his scent was kicking her fucking teeth in, he could see in the way her tongue kept darting out kept catching a taste. She really was being a team player though, this wasn't for her, wasn't for Lambert, this was for Jaskier and she understood that, she didn't ask for anything from the omegas as another Alpha held in a heat room would, because this wasn't a moment for her and she respected that, changed her voice for it, her fucking words, she was doing what someone who wouldn't touch could. Lambert could have thought on that longer if blood was getting to his brain, it wasn’t, he let himself lose focus, chase relief, give the bard the applause he was after.

Lambert was dismissed convincingly, when Jaskier pulled away to shout. "Geralt!" Jaskier was on his stomach, a hand planted firmly between his shoulder blades and Geralt was going to pop out the bard's throat at this rate. This was the beginning of the end, that was the last coherent word they'd get from Jaskier for likely a day. This was just movement because if they didn't Jaskier's heart would beat clean out out of his chest. It would soon be pleads for in Jaskier's case things he certainly didn't need and would flirt before admitting to want, the heat would consume him, burn him alive make him ash in the wind, make him nothing. Except for the fact that Geralt would grab every last piece as if they were flecks of gold, he'd lovingly place them all where they aught to be, Jaskier always came out of his heats whole, Lambert always came out of his heats with some new fucking scar. Lambert looked over to find Malo leaving, perhaps it had gotten too warm for her, the more vulnerable Jaskier became the more protective Geralt would be, she'd have to breathe wrong and he'd kill her while still scenting his bard with devotion.  
"Marshmalo?" Lambert didn't know what he wanted to ask her. So he just stared at her and fuck if she wasn't patient, she stared right back. "Bread pudding . . . Not fruit salad?" She didn't have to do more for him during his heat, it would be far too hard on her, but the same? He could ask her for the same.  
"For you Berty I'll even learn to bake bread." The creak and crack in his chest eased he could focus back on his pack.  
 _'Fix the dim . . . Make you feel special Malo.'_ He had a goal for right fucking after the heat broke and he bathed.

"Malo you got a human nose. Can you still smell those fuckers-" He'd been shouting from the stairs expecting to find her lounging in his room keeping his nest warm but she wasn't. _'Least she's fucking close.'_ She hadn't been banging on the gates or climbing out a window, she was in her fucking room. "Marshmalo?" He knocked because he was an asshole not a savage.  
"Come in Berty." He opened the door. _'Thought Jaskier's were bad.'_ He had almost forgotten about Malo's 'nest.' It was a mattress on her floor, she had gotten out from under it before he came in. "Mine's better."  
"Humble _as_ always." Malo smiled and there it was that fucking dimness.  
"Stop fucking moping Malo." He'd get her shouting, she was easiest to understand when she was shouting.  
"Not fucking moping you asshole." Here it was she would shout, he would understand and he'd fucking fix it. "Just thinking . . . Remembering . . . Getting jealous of odd things again."  
 _'Remembering?'_ Her life clearly wasn't rainbows and taffy, he didn't want her to remember, wanted her to forget or atleast out grow the memories. _'Jealous of odd-'_ Lambert stuck out both his hands.  
"Hm?"  
"Touch . . . Er . . . Hold my hands?' Two he'd offer her both and while he didn't think of it first he could offer her more. She sat shoulder to shoulder with Lambert taking both his hands in hers. Lambert scowled so heavy his face was going to fall off.  
"My palms sweaty?" She saw the rain cloud form over his head.  
"No . . . . It . . . Supposed to feel something right?" Lambert knew his wants were varied but . . . Well fuck this wasn't even a dislike it was nothing . . . It did nothing for him.  
"Some people do . . . Think you'd only like holding hands if you were worried you'd lose me in a crowded market." Lambert's eyes got a bit wide at that. It was a fucking example, he understood that but the thought of them . . . The two of them, out in the world, together, sent his head spinning. She was right, he populated her imaginary market, thought of her drifting a bit too far into a dense crowd and his hand reaching out and taking hers, that felt . . . Didn't drive him wild but it felt . . . Like something with a fucking purpose. "Or just . . . You know in the halls here." She had misread the dazed and confused look.  
"Could . . . Would walk in a market with you. Wouldn't fucking lose you though." Was this him trapping again? Even in his head. _'Fuck'_  
"To some people holding hands feels like-" sharp fucking fingers, firm fucking tug on his hair, focus, special, a touch that made him feel special, wanted.  
"What's your . . . That." He wanted to give her that, she _deserved_ that.  
"Don't have one I don't think but I don't mind it's-"  
"Fuck that. You just . . . I didn't know that was for me till you did it. You just don't know it yet . . . I . . . I want to be the one who gives that to you Malo . . . Want you to . . ." Admitting what it did for him, would that ruin it's magic? He didn't want to lose that. "If it wasn't the hand holding junk. What were you jealous of? Geralt and Dandelion?"  
"All of you . . . Together. Clearly you're not a family . . . But you sure are _close_. I was jealous of that." Before Lambert could open his mouth to atleast thank her for being to the point, not just continuing to look all dim and dower there was a knock at the door.  
 _'Eskel?'_ Well he couldn't avoid his brother forever. "We're decent." He wasn't going to invite Eskel in but next closest thing. "Eskel! Malo wants to be close to us! Wore her down! Fuckers said I had no charm!"  
"That's not what I said you egotisitical lump!" She punched him in the arm and that had Lambert beaming because this was the loud pointed Malo he remembered, wanted, but also had him forgetting, an arm slung over her shoulder in a headlock pulling her close to his chest.  
"Fuck I'm-" She wasn't seething wasn't striking, she was just kind of . . . Staying, maybe even nuzzling, he could get delusional enough to say scenting and no one would blame him. "Ok?" Maybe this was it, her action she liked best . . . Maybe with a bit less active headlock.  
"You smell like sex." She laughed a bit against the center of his chest and fuck if it didn't feel warm in all the right ways.  
"How close . . . To all of us?" Eskel was still standing awkwardly in the door.  
"Eskel we all admire your commitment to a bit but whatever Lambert paid you to pretend to like me-"  
"Didn't pay him." Lambert cringed, because of course Malo saw through his plan, she wasn't stupid.  
"You're Lambert's bagged rain." Eskel sat across from the pair.  
"Is that what you all call me when I'm not around?" Malo tried to pull out of Lambert's chest but he sat his chin atop her head and held her there, he couldn’t see but he was sure her lips twisted bested.  
"Not always. Geralt calls you a homewrecker." It wasn't his fault that his brothers weren't as good with nicknames as he was.  
"Not going to fight Lambert for you. Don't want all of you like he does. Though . . . I can be close sometimes, when you need it . . . Or maybe . . . When I ask to . . . I don't want sex." Eskel was normally good with words, what was tripping him up? "It's something that's fine, can take it or leave it but what you let me . . . I do like . . . Just being close." Eskel scooted a bit closer. "Can I touch you?" He was asking Malo for permission but he was looking at Lambert to see if he was getting punched in the face.  
"You just . . . Want to be close?" Malo seemed skeptical and honestly so was Lambert, he wanted her, wasn't really known for his ability to share and there was no heat or rut to blur the lines here.  
"That's the part I like, not much a fan of the rest of it." Eskel shrugged. "Don't want _in_ . . . Just _around_ if that makes sense? Most of the time just . . . Friends like we've been but I do like . . .Feeling close, like we were during Jaskier's heat? Can ask the others but knowing you wouldn't want more makes it easy to ask."  
"You like the fluff not the stuff?" Lambert could make sense of it once it was spelled out nice and slow. Sex was to Eskel what hand holding was to Lambert, not good, not bad, just . . . Nothing.  
"Never say that again." Eskel looked absolutely mortified. "But yes."  
"I . . . Don't want her to like you better she's . . . You're-" He pulled back to looked down at Malo. "Not mine but I . . . Want you to like me best."  
"Do you want _all_ of me?" She said it in a teasing tone, that it was a bit dramatic of a phrase.  
"Want fucking more than Eskel." Lambert didn’t know how much of her he wanted, for how long, in what way but holding her focus was important to him, she was important to him, and he was selfish. "Like you best. Fucking batty but I like you best."  
"You _like_ me batty. Only a batty girl would like an Asshole best." Malo countered and fuck it felt good.  
"I can . . . If you . . . I'll go." Eskel was making a clumsy bid to stand, clearly feeling he misjudged his welcome.  
"No one's going to hurt you here Marshmalo. Fucking promise." Lambert swore into Malo's ear but was glaring at Eskel a warning but an acceptance, his brother didn't mean to take her from him, he deserved something for all of his team efforts and while Malo wasn't _something_ maybe the act of holding someone was to some people.  
"Alright." He could feel Malo tighten bracing for impact.  
"Just . . . Soft." Eskel was careful, like if he held to hard he'd snap in her in two, which _was_ theoretically possible. It was a bit awkward because as much as Eskel was hugging Malo his arms went past her meeting at either side of Lambert's spine.  
"This is . . . Fucking weird as shit." Eskel's face was so close, resting on Malo's shoulder but gods if he didn’t look content, happy even, when was the last time he'd seen Eskel happy? Well sober and happy.  
" _We're_ fucking weird as shit." He did find the fact Malo was still loud enough to be heard from within the bookend of witchers amusing. It lingered like this for a few minutes before there was another knock at the door.  
"Why the fuck not?!" Lambert didn’t get embarrassed he got even. The door opened and there was Geralt with Jaskier splayed over his back not like a child but a well and spent lover.  
"I want a part of this immediately! How was I not the first invited to this! Geralt stop standing, start hugging!" Jaskier was absolutely green with envy. Lambert had never been part of anything worth of envy, had him smirking something proud, this wasn't a mistake, he was protecting and strong, yet caring enough.  
"Malo?" Geralt knew she was burried in there somewhere.  
"Just hugging Jaskier." She was getting anxious, overwhelmed, Lambert scented long her neck and while tension didn't flee her, it did settle.  
"Promise. Too sore for anything else." Two more sets of arms, nuzzling faces were added to the mix, Malo flinched and squirmed, then calmed. "This is nice. I want this after each of my heats Geralt."  
"Hmm." This was so . . . Odd, just huddling for not warmth just closeness, it wasn’t frenzied or sloppy with want, it was three witchers and two humans just held together with focus on . . . This moment.  
"That's not hugging Dandelion!" Lambert felt a familiar tongue near his ear.

Went another moment like that till something changed, there was a shaking from the center of the embrace. "Marshmalo?" He was quick to start shoving away bodies. He took her face in his hands, her eyes were red and wet. "Too much?" He let go of her entirely.  
"You can cry if you want to Malo. It's your room, cry as long and as loud as you want. Don't need a reason, just let it out. If anyone laughs you know Lambert will stab them." Jaskier stated it terribly casualy, as if it was nothing.  
"Will." Lambert nodded. "Can . . . Can be your home if you want it, least till you run off in spring."  
"Home?" Malo shook her head like she was waking from some dream. "Can't." It was an angry word as instincts flared.  
"We aren't wolves Malo but this is just as much my home as . . . _Anywhere_. We can be ourselves here. No one will-"  
"Shut the fuck up I have an idea!" Lambert had a brilliant fucking plan and nothing else was important.  
"Rude." Jaskier stuck out that wandering tongue.  
"Is it to take another bath? You _all_ smell like sex." Malo was deflecting . . . Mostly, they did smell faintly of day old lust.  
"You trust me Marshmalo?"  
"To do what?"  
"I'm going to _make_ you cry." More words that sounded better in his head. "We're going to keep you safe."  
"I can only-"  
"Trust me? Us?"  
"Before I regret it Berty."  
"Dandelion Malo's loud as shit. Sing something louder so the old man doesn't hear emotion and come to filet it?"  
"Requests? Donny Boy? Young Jack of the Hill? No One's Delved Me Deep As You? The Roving Redanian? Oooh I'll Show You Worlds, M'Dear!"  
"Sure." Lambert wasn't really asking for music, he was asking for noise. "Geralt stand by the door and . . ."  
"Defend?"  
"I don't think if tears fall a battalion will hit us!" Malo rolled her eyes.  
"Even better. Geralt stand by the door and look pretty." Lambert got a good laugh in.  
"Hmm." Geralt took the job as seriously as he took any, which was very, boring a hole into the door's cedar, his shoulders squared as a man protecting his home would.  
"Eskel you can hold quen for a while right?" Lambert moved to face Malo squarely, their knees touching.  
"Yeah." There it was Malo's favorite fucking sign. Lambert was petty as shit, it pleased him a bit that Malo didn't dust her fingers along it in wonder.  
"Ready?" Malo's eyes were not dim, they were fucking sparking, fear, anger, salt, patience, trust.  
"Are you going to punch me?" She was teasing which was good, meant she was tolerating.  
"No one is going to fucking hurt you. There is nowhere more safe then where I'll have you."  
"Where-"  
"Trust me?"  
"Yes." She nodded hesitantly. "Trust you Berty. What are you-" She was following the twist of Lambert's fingers, axii.  
"Marshmalo you're going to cry as long as you need to ok?" He worded it as a question, there was no question only magic and then fucking tears. It began as just a slow but steady stream over cheeks, then she started to quake with it, started to sob, no words came, no retelling of held pains, just tears. "Fucking have you Malo." His arm went around her neck pulling him into his chest. "Home." His chin rested atop her head, felt his throat grow wet with the stuff. "I'll be home for you." Axxi didn't last all that long, quen fell, Jaskier had to breathe, Geralt eventually had to blink. The tears dried up and she did huff and puff turning weeping to wrath but it wasn't a mistake it was right, they all felt right.  
"Well fuck." Malo was wiping furiously at her eyes.  
"You're not fucking mad are you?" He thought it had been a good plan, thought he was helping.  
"Furious." Yet she was laughing which was confusing as shit. "How do I get even with _that_?! you compassionate asshole?" Everyone laughed at that. "Isn't enough bread pudding in the world!" She kissed him and it wasn't chaste, it was a little bit aftershock of feeling too much, but he took it, wanted it, still had her focus laced within. "Berty you were there for me. Home for me. It's completely up to you, however you chose, but if you want me there for your heat I will be."  
"Fuck." He absolutely didn't want that, yet somehow wanted it desperately. He was confused and contradicting, what else was new. "Let me fucking sleep on it? I'm exhausted."  
"It's winter, no rush Berty." Except there absolutely was, there was fucking days to decide.  
"Can stay here if you want, my nest _is_ better though."  
"Can-" Jaskier started.  
"Bigger." Lambert nodded.  
"How big?" Eskel inquired passively.  
"Geralt keep your bard's hands where you can see them." Lambert stood and stretched, maybe he'd have to build a bigger nest.  
"I can do that." Geralt looked pleasantly surprised which brought the white wolf's expression to a grand total of eight.  
"I don't want-"  
"Malo's not a cuddler or a pillow, her wall of the nest is off limits. I _will_ stab you." Lambert saw his pack looking at him with, understanding, acceptance, respect, their faces didn't look all that different than before but maybe he'd been so fucking angry he couldn't see clearly. Now it was there, right in his face, he had it, he wanted to keep it. Maybe Geralt had been onto something earlier, maybe Malo was magic, one thing was for sure spring could go and fuck itself.


	9. Far and flawed

"Don't you ever sleep in?" Lambert couldn't have sat up if he wanted to. Jaskier was splaid out cross him and Eskel, with Geralt's head and arms weighing down at the bard's center.  
"I did once, I thought I was dying." Malo had made a mess of his nest, pulling bushels of blankets and furs over to her corner throughout the night.  
_'Cold and alone.'_ He watched as she took said pile and dumped them over the witchers. While it was a nice toasty feeling it was missing something. "Malo?"  
"Yes?" She was halfway out of his nest, pausing crouched awkwardly in it's entrene, Lambert had to shake his head as his morning wood made filth out if the image. "Not tellin you what to do. Just a question." He paused a bit too long.  
"Which is?"  
"You gonna keep takin them? Even after my heat?" He missed her natural scent, even under suppressants he could find it but it'd be better without the mulchy overtones. This winter had been an exercise in everyone being more of themselves and yet Malo was hiding a part of herself and he wanted to be sure it wasn't on his behalf.  
"Maybe . . . Makes me less jumpy I think."  
"We can be patient with the jumps. You're fucking dim with them."  
"I'm not an idiot Lambert!" She snapped and was making her way for his door.  
"No!" Fuck maybe all these years dedicated to being cantankerous and unapproachable had made talking harder. "Not fucking stupid I know you're not." He was getting the hang of her adjusted rule though. "Can I touch you?" He was shoving bard's and brothers off him less than gingerly.  
"No." Her brow was furrowed but he maybe thought she wasn't angry, just curious.  
"Fine." Lambert let out an annoyed sigh, he respected her rule didn't mean he had to revel in it. "Meant dim like . . . Off of em yer fuckin loud Malo. I like you loud. You're whole fuckin face gets quiet when yer on em. Hard to . . . I'm not great at reading faces Marshmalo. Got great fuckin ears."  
"Lambert I . . ." She cocked her head to the side and was studying him something awful. "I know you're fast but do you think you could be slow?"  
"Huh?" He didn't understand the question. He'd been as patient as he possibly could be. How in anyway had he been rushing?  
"With me? If . . ."  
"If what? See? Fucking dim. Just shout what you want and I'll probably fuckin do it."  
"Nevermind Berty. You're right maybe they do make me a bit dim." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, a slight tug on his hair, then she was gone. Lambert didn’t know how he fucked up. What his mistake had been, but that was just his second nature, he clearly had been wrong in some way.

"So you _never_ want to have sex with her?" Geralt was still on Jaskier's stomach but had rolled over onto his own back to face his brother.  
"What?"  
"She was asking you to fuck her but not be an absolute animal about it." Geralt didn't put any pageantry into his words, maybe because Lambert didn’t need pageantry or maybe because Lambert had needed things spelled out to him lately.  
"Fuck. Well why didn't she just say that?"  
"Maybe she's angry about it."  
"Angry?"  
"Her body rejects fear much like sadness, she gets angry instead. Handshakes rattle her, asking for anymore probably was . . .hard." It made sense, Geralt didn't often ask for things, he stated what he wanted and waited for a response, being the civil person he was Geralt was generally willing to respect the response whether or not it was what he desired. Outright asking though wasn't really in his nature. To be honest Lambert didn’t ask much, asking was fucking awkward, led to disappointment. Perhaps stating plainly, or shouting it at the top of her lungs like he requested wasn't something Malo felt comfortable with.

"I can fix my fuck up right?" He did want to be able to have sex with her before she died of old age.  
"You didn't fuck up. You just have to learn your alpha better." Jaskier yawned.  
"She's not my Alpha." Lambert had quite the knee jerk reaction to that. He didn't want to be claimed, owned, that had not changed, would not change, not for all the mint in the north.  
"What is she then?" As Eskel yawned Lambert had a full house if idiots that thought he had anything figured out.  
"Malo." Lambert shrugged all his frustration right in their stupid faces.  
"No. She's your Marshmalo." Jaskier teased. "Your sweet little-"  
"All of you. Out. Now."  
"Or-" Jaskier was back, thinking clearly again, had none of that clamy heat under his skin, he was in a good mood.  
"Or nothing. Get the fuck out!" Lambert didn’t give a shit about Jaskier's return to form.  
"I can help you learn faces better." Jaskier offered making some goofy dramatic faces. Lambert would have scoffed if he wasn't becoming aware of the passage of time.

 _'Soon.'_ It was coming and it was inconvenient as fucking always. "No." He didn't want to learn faces. He didn't want to think, or talk about feelings. Honestly now that it was the topic at hand he really wanted to fuck Malo, seeing as he blew his chance at that he really wanted to punch something. "Maybe. . . Later. Can we just . . ." Lambert felt his normal haze of anger just flood through him.  
"You're using a training sword. I'm not having you come at me that hot holding slick steel." Geralt was in a good mood too and fairly tired of sheets and beds, he'd let Lambert get out some of his aggression the good old fashioned way.  
"Wouldn't want to carve up that pretty face of yours." Lambert should have said thank you, he didn't, he was an asshole.

Lunch was quiet. Malo didn't look dim, she looked like she was thinking. "Eat." Lambert felt obligated to remind her, giving her plate an annoyed shove.  
"Huh?" She came back from the clouds and back to her plate of vegetables. "Right."  
"Try again." He turned to face her, really studying her fucking face. "Listening better." Even if she halfway asked he'd see it and quickly agree to it.  
"Huh?"  
"This morning you were trying to-"  
"There will be less miscommunications from this point on." Vesemir stated casualy.  
"Uh oh." Eskel knew well enough of Lambert's relationship with Vesemir to know this would end poorly. "Malo you might want to move." No one thought Lambert was going to strike Vesemir but Malo was blocking Lambert from shouting the old man into the south wall.  
"The fuck did you say to her?" Lambert stood in a fury.  
"We spoke of how best to handle your-"  
"I don't want to be fucking handled." Maybe today would be the day, maybe he would sock the old wolf. "Malo whatever the fuck he said, ignore it, do the opposite. He thinks . . . I ain't your pup!" Lambert shoved Vesemir's plate not annoyed, fully agressive, fully to the floor.  
"Lambert, some of what he said-"  
"Malo I . . ." Lambert felt trapped, he was still fucking angry but this was not helping his case when it came to being someone Malo could ask of things. "Ask me the question you asked me this morning Malo. Nothins gotta come from it just ask again. Provin a fucking point."  
"Do you think you could be slow . . . With me?" Gods she was patient.  
"Could. Would. I can slow the fuck down Malo." It wasn't his specialty but she had described to him what a slow fuck felt like and he had been a fan of the image. "Now ask the way Vesemir told you to ask."  
"Lambert despite what Geralt calls me I did not come here to wreck homes."  
"If he wants to puff out his chest let him." Vesemir seemed confident but being older than dirt maybe gave him that constantly self assured state.  
"I don't like being put in the middle here." Malo's face was a bit red a little angry.  
"LAMBERT! WHAT DID WE JUST TALK ABOUT?" Perhaps Geralt was trying to reign Lambert in but it had the opposite effect.  
"This isn't about you Geralt! It's not about how Alphas and omegas are supposed to fucking be. I find one person that talks to me like . . . Like I make sense and he's got to worm his way in there. Put a fucking wolf's stamp of approval on it. Would you want Vesemir to tell Dandelion how to speak to you? Her way is better than his and I'm going to prove it to him!"  
"He told me it should be your choice Lambert. To wait till it's your idea. I shouldn't try to push you . . . Because you've been pushed before and you don't respond well. You've been patient for me and I owe you-"  
"Did he tell you about my heats?" Lambert was so fucking furious, Vesemir would absolutely ruin it. Lambert liked Malo because she didn't coddle him, here Vesemir was telling her to handle him like a underdeveloped egg.  
"You . . . Hurt yourself." She gave a nod. "I told you it's your choice how you ride out you heat and-"  
"There ain't no fucking _choice_ about it. You don't know what it feels like Malo it just-"  
"No. I don't. Won't ever. If there's anything I can do to stop . . . During your heat forget my rule."  
"What?" That didn't make sense, it was all she cared about. "Did he tell you I need you knot me? To wait till I'm begging for it?"  
" _I_ won't touch you. Hell Lambert I'll sleep in the stable with Delcot if it makes it easier. Just . . . Ask anything of me if it keeps you from hurting yourself. Please."  
"I . . . Don't know what I want." He was running out of fucking time.  
"Just . . . You don't have to _want_ anything. You won't be you during it. Heat you doesn't define who you really are, what you really want, but if you _need_ anything to keep from-"  
"You fucking-" His chest fucking hurt. Was he having a heart attack? He finally understood what Geralt had said earlier. Asking a simple question was really fucking hard. ' _You fucking mean it?'_ Did she really believe that? His wants during heats weren't reflective of him as a person? He'd been told that before, had it described to him from the first explanation of the birds and the bees. He thought it to be a lie though, or a twisting of things Alphas told their sensitive little omegas so that they wouldn't feel shame when they gave into their nature. Heats were omegas purposes, personalities varied but he'd been schooled for decades that personality wasn't secondary, didn't even reach the top ten, purpose and how you rose to that purpose trumped all else. Heats were omegas, and thus Lambert was hell bent on his being the fastest, bloodiest, angriest, he was who he was, always.  
_'Not complicated but not just fast and angry.'_ Her words had him questioning . . . Everything. He didn't have time for this shit. ' _I like you Berty.'_ Did being liked change anything?  
"Fuck!" Lambert swept his food off the table.  
"No. No. Cleaning peas from limestone was how I _wanted_ to spend the day." Jaskier spoke over the clatter of ceramic. Lambert _was_ having a heart attack, he was spinning so hard the organ was going to pump out of his rib cage. Then it stopped, _he_ was stopped, if she tugged any harder she would pull his hair out of his skull.  
"BERTY BREATHE YOU SELFISH ASSHOLE. If you die over this Vesemir _will_ kill me!" Her eyes were angry then scared, why were they scared? When did they get so close? Her forehead was right against his.  
"Breathing." They were loud heated breaths. "Don't-" He glanced over at Vesemir. "Leave her alone." Then back to Malo looking for . . . What was he looking for? "No one's going to fucking hurt you Marshmalo." Her point was valid, Vesemir _would_ blame her if Lambert didn’t make it through winter. ' _Safe. Keep her safe.'_ His breaths slowed as the world stopped spinning.  
"If you hurt. It hurts me Berty." She said it slow, patient but there was no dimness in her eyes. Well fuck if she hurt when he did . . . She was in for a world of pain.  
"Let go." She did, she took some steps back.

"Lambert I'm sorry I didn't mean-"  
"It's going to hurt." Lambert wasn't shouting anymore. " _Always_ hurts." He wasn't feeling angry anymore he was . . . Curious. "Don't run."  
"What's the point in running Berty? You're too fast." She still looked angry and scared but she had a small smile on her face.  
"I think a plant fell."  
"What?" The smile grew, she outright laughed. He was a fright, a menace but he was fucking funny.  
"In your green house. Should go check on it."  
"You know you can just ask me to leave. There's no need to-"  
"Fine. Trying to be fucking subtle-"

"You are many a thing Berty. Subtle is not one of them."

"Get fucking gone Marshmalo." Was he smiling? Probably not? Probably was scowling like the asshole he was. She was so fucking patient just accepting his outburst with a over it shrug, turning for the stairs. "Wait." She fucking did, too patient for this world or atleast too patient for this wolf. He walked over to her, he was slow, tried to temper any snarl. "Can I touch you?"  
"Won't punish me?" She was patient but she was also honest, this had scared her.  
"Fucking never Marshmalo. No one will. Never the fuck again." He was going to that port, he was going to blow it the fuck up, her patience deserved some reward. **'** _That's it.'_ Lambert had a plan, it had him smiling, or at the very least turning up the corner of his scowl.  
"Go on then Berty." Hands at her cheeks, thumbs over blush, slow, he gave her a slow kiss, leaned into it slow, tilted her slow, enjoyed the curl of her smile slow.  
"Gonna fucking fix it Marshmalo." He growled into his lips.  
"Good at fixing things Berty." She nodded as they parted. She didn't even ask what needed fixing. "Doesn't got to be perfect. Make it you. I like you." Fuck how was she getting better and better just as he was getting worse and worse? She did eventually make it for the stairs.

  
"She pushed and you-" Vesemir didn’t know when enough was enough.  
"Can fucking take it. Not a pup." Lambert was in no mood for a lecture. He turned to his brothers and the bard. "Think my heat's coming early."  
"What gave you that idea?" Geralt glanced around at all the ruined dishes, his own hands over his and Jaskier's plates a bit protectively.  
"You still have a day or two left yet." Vesemir just would _not_ go away. Crypt keeper was right though, was always right. Vesemir always went for a long hike the day it started, never went early, never went late. Lambert was sure it was some sick purposeful act to make him hate the old wolf's departure because it meant pain was to come, implied Lambert would be weak without him. Vesemir was still _so_ here though, which meant there was still time. Not letting himself dust up angry over how predictable he was Lambert just ignored that statement.  
"What . . . Do you need anything?" Geralt seemed to being getting into his Alpha from the gods mindset. No rest for the righteous.  
"Need to be . . . Me . . . But . . ."  
"Slower?" Jaskier smiled, reckless as always, stood and scented glacier slow at Lambert's thumping pulse.  
"Softer?" Eskel suggested, his eyes seemed eager and full of ideas.  
"Not an animal?" Geralt rounded out the brainstorm session.  
"I am so fucked." Lambert smashed his hand into his face. He couldn't be _any_ of those things, especially not in two days.  
' _Make it you. Like you.'_ But- _'Heat you doesn't define who you really are._ ' What the fuck should he do? Could he do? His head was growing hazy. "Tonight. While I'm still me . . . Want to . . . Be a show off." He could do that.

He was already hot, fuck if he was a human he'd be sweating buckets but he wanted it to distract him from the fire under his skin. _'Fuck.'_ He was pacing because he was a ball of energy, not because he was nervous.  
"He did what now?" That was Malo, she was coming.  
"He and Jaskier made dinner. Humans must really like seasoning." Eskel was walking with her. Was he holding her hand? Lambert hoped so, meant he didn't have to waste his time on that junk. Not because it made him happy in anyway that Eskel got a slice of what mattered to him.  
"And is serving it in his bedroom _because_?" Not an idiot, she knew where this was headed. "Wait is Jaskier in Lambert’s bedroom?" They had stopped moving. Malo didn't want Jaskier to be in his room.  
"No. Just Lambert."  
"Oh." Lambert walked right up to the door. Why weren't they moving? _Did_ she want the better Omega in the room? She didn't he knew she didn't, why wasn't she moving? "Tell him I said thank you? He is quite the artisan." She just wanted the bard to know he wasn't feared, he was a friend.  
"You're stressing him out." Eskel could hear Lambert's rising heartbeat.  
"All of you." She was hugging Eskel and his brother was hogging her. Lambert wasn't stressed he was impatient.  
"You're welcome Malo." She was moving again. "Malo?"  
_'For fucks sake!'_ Lambert's forehead thudded against the door, loud enough to elicite a laugh.  
"You're welcome here. By all of us. If you've got the patience."  
" _She_ does. _I_ don't!" He shouted into the wood.  
"Keep your trousers on." Eskel was calm as always.  
"Least till after the dinner you worked so hard on." Malo opened the door and Lambert nearly fell into her.  
"Fuck."  
"After dinner." She jumped a bit as his arm went round her shoulders but she eased as she was pulled into his chest. "It's hot as fuck in here."  
"Not cold. Not alone. Not what you like but-" He was pulling her deeper into his room, Eskel closed the door behind her.  
"I like _you_ Berty." That wasn't getting fucking old.  
"Well?" He let go and fuck if her face wasn't bested better than ever before, as she took it in, a nest, no _the_ nest, the biggest nest he'd ever made, biggest wasn't the right word, _best_ , any remotely soft surface within these walls had been folded and rolled up into this fucking sturdy nest. Yes maybe it was a bit much, bit peacocking, presenting in a more tame regard but he didn't care. _'She likes nests. She'll like this nest.'_  
"It's wonderful Berty." She sounded so pleased, with the nest, if some of that rolled off onto him so be it.  
"Don't gotta wonder Marshmalo. Can have it after dinner." He offered his hand and she took it, there wasn't a jump at this touch and while hand holding was still dumb as shit, this was a good sign and it sent a signal straight through his heart and right down to his dick. _'Don't.'_ Eskel had warned him not to touch himself before being . . . Soft.

He tried to eat fucking slow, but it was hard, one savoring a meal of lumpy little vegetable dumplings was . . . Not great but Malo was smiling so he swallowed the mush and focused on her pleased grin instead of the flavor or lack there of. Secondly he wanted to speak but Jaskier, Geralt and Eskel had all independently warned him during his crash course on how to court someone, not to speak with his mouth full. "You were right Berty." She spoke, which he was thankful for, awkward silences were not his strength. "Plant fell, well plants."  
"Huh?" Mouth full of dumpling and all. _'Fuck.'_  
"Pinegrape. Still have seeds so I can restart them if I need. I have enough to carry me through your heat but-"  
"You won't need the seeds Malo." Lambert was quick with his relpy. He could have it back, she was giving it back. Even the thought of having mint back had him just a little calmer and on a day like today that was a miracle. "Less you want to." Geralt had warned him about only thinking about what he wanted, which was tricky because he knew most of the time what he wanted, he wasn't a fucking mind reader. "Do you feel better off of em?"  
"Better?" He wasn't quite sure how that was a confusing question but she did seem puzzled. "Sometimes." She shrugged as if that was a quality answer but then spoke again. "Sometimes I don't know what I want. Like how I feel." It wasn't just him, he wasn't completely insane, or he was and so was Malo.  
"Sometimes want touching sometimes don't?" He could see how that would be confusing.  
"That. Other stuff. I don't . . . I want to be a good person."  
"The fuck told you that you weren't a good person?" Lambert stood. "Was it Vesemir? Fucking-"  
"Me. _I_ think I'm not a good person." Well that made no fucking sense, she was a great fucking person even an idiot could see that and Malo was no idiot.  
"I . . . Like you Marshmalo. Told you that."  
"Yes but you deserve-"  
"You're loud as shit. Smell fucking amazing patient as fuck, talk sense. Lipa are-" She made a list for him, he could to the same.  
"My scent makes you angry."  
"Good angry." Lambert decided that was a thing.  
"You don't want an Alpha and sometimes I . . . At lunch I acted like you were mine, spoke to you like-"  
"You were fucking loud." Lambert grinned. He wasn't dense, he knew what an Alpha's tone was, Geralt sure barked at him enough for him to be well versed in it, but when Malo did it, she just sounded . . . Loud, he didn't feel like he was being corralled or even corrected just fucking shouted at.  
"I . . . I'm worried Berty." She looked it.  
"That I'll hurt you? Malo I-"  
"No. That I won't be . . . A good person." She sighed. "I was supposed to be there for them. Give them, what they needed, what they wanted. I shouldn't have fought it so hard. If I had been good, they wouldn't have-"  
"The . . . You feel bad you weren't better for the monsters?" He fought every one of his joints, not to ball a fist, every breath not to growl.  
"I . . . It would have been easier. My life could have been-" She stopped dead. "You don't want to hear about that." She was right, he was not subtle, his whole body was tense.  
"No." He wanted to blow up that fucking port.  
"See that's what . . . Can't do what-"  
"What I want is . . . Different . . . From them. Not a good person, don't want a good person. Want a mess like me." How was he holding this smile? For her, he was holding it for her.  
"A mess?" Was she insulted by that? It wasn't exactly a doting term, wasn't soft or fucking kind. She was laughing, she really was batty. "Well I really killed the mood didn't I?"  
"I still want to fuck you." That was definitely not the right sentence, not at all. _'Don't be a fucking animal.'_ He wondered if he jumped out of his window if he'd die on impact or if he'd mess that up too. End up not dead but just break every fucking bone in-  
"Ok."  
"What?" He was not expecting that.  
"Slow?" She . . . Wait was she just agreeing to this because she thought she needed to? Because that was what an Alpha should do when an Omega asked.  
"Do . . . Do you know what you want right now?"  
"I want to . . . Want?" She didn't sound sure and that had Lambert fucking confused.  
"Malo I didn't build this nest for my health."  
"I know." She nodded, standing up.  
"Let me know when you want me in there."  
"Huh?"  
"Go in snug up, destroy all my hard fucking work and if you want me to come in I'll come in. If not . . . Got real fucking good at sitting outside of doorways keeping you from running away."  
"But-"  
"You want slow I'll give you fucking slow." He laid out in the the entrance of the nest. "Gonna have to step over me Malo." He needed to let dinner settle anyways, he was lazy, not going to sit out of the door to his own fucking room. She was the batty one not him. As she passed over him her fingers combed through his hair, sharp little shock, maybe saying thank you.

An hour passed till he smelled it, mint, more than that, mint and lust. His teeth ground, he wasn't sure he had the patience to not touch her again, just smell, maybe allowed to look. _'Slow. Soft. Not an Animal.'_ He clenched his teeth. She wanted him to be as he was, she _liked_ him but he was an asshole. He was not a sum of the better parts of his family.  
"Berty?"  
"Yes?" Gods was that a cracked croak if he ever heard one.  
"Will you come in?"  
"Why?" He'd turn her down nicely, if she just wanted eyes and a nose, he wasn't mad at her but his heat was so fucking close, patience was her gambit not his.  
"I want you to fuck me. If you changed-" Lambert absolutely toppled into the nest, she laughed because she found everything he did fucking hilarious.  
"Didn't. Can be slow." His less than graceful entrance probably gave her cause for concern on that front. "Malo be sure. If you take it back I _will_ punch something." He watched her eyes go wide. "Not you. Never you. If I ever fucking punch you I want you to have Vesemir stab me."  
"Vesemir?"  
"I want to hate every second of it."  
"Less talk of stabbing more . . . Litteraly anything else Lambert." She got him to laugh. Laughing was good but generally not right before sex.  
"Right. Malo am I able to touch you?" He got a serious face on, he made a lot of mistakes, he was angry always, he wanted to do something fucking right. He really didn't want to mess up this time.  
"Yes. Did you want me to-" He knew this part, was fine at this part, hands on cheeks, thumbs on blush lips on lips, it was slow he was trying to be slow and soft and- ' _Fuck'_ like a sociopath his eyes opened mid kiss because he just wasn't expecting that, Malo's tongue is his mouth. It was slow and it was soft and he wasn't sure if tongues could be nervous but Malo might've found a way to make that so. She was falling on her back, she didn't jump when his hands left her face and found her shoulders holding her there. "Ok?"  
"I'm fine Berty." Well fuck this was new territory, he wasn't sure what to do beyond this point. Then he remembered what he _wanted_ to do. He pulled his lips away from her and let his own tongue go from her collar bone to the edge of her jaw and fuck if mint and sweat didn't taste a hundred times better than mint and blood. He let his eyes hold on her for a second and she didn't look fucking dim, or scared, not even angry, she seemed hyper aware, focused on him and pleased. Only then did he notice he hadn't stopped, just kept moving, licking, scenting, all over, till mint and lemon started to mix or overlap fuck if he knew. His teeth bit at them hem of her pants.  
"Ok?" He needed another way to check in he really did but that was something he could say, teeth still embedded in cotton.  
"Bit wetter for wear but good." They were gone, her trousers and smalls in quick succesion.  
"Malo I-" He felt both her hands in his hair, running from the back of his neck to the crown of his skull and it felt fucking nice. _'Say something. Ask if you're allowed-'_ His body was faster than his head because his mouth was moving but not for words, in search of a sweeter unmuddied well of mint.  
"Lambert!" It was a fright of a gasp and it had him out of her lap and onto his heels.  
"Fuckin what?"  
"No nothing that was-" She looked confused for a moment. "I . . . You . . .don't . . . Don't have to." Her breath leveled out. "I can . . . Plenty wet enough Berty, it will be-"  
"Don't gotta do shit . . . You . . . Not like that?" She'd never been redder, she was a fucking tomato. "You _do_?" He waited, watched, he was grinning. "Want to Malo. Can I?" He watched cogs stall up in her skull. "Hey! Marshmalo?" He waved a hand infront of her face. "Anyone home?"  
"I . . . Want you to." He heard her, it was mousy as anything but he had the ears if a witcher, he could've heard her down the hall.  
"What was that?" He was a selfish asshole though, he wanted to hear it again.  
"I want you to." Her smile was a bit to nervous though.  
"Don't seem to sure bout it." He didn't want to be told to stop, wouldn't stop once he got started.  
"You licked me like shaved ice for near an hour and now that I ask you to put your tongue to my cunt you've gone deaf?!"  
"You should curse more." He smiled wide, those words were more than permission it was a purpose and it was fucking filthy. He had his hands at her hips and this time when she gasped his name he just kept at it, kept going till gasps became groans, then high breathy fucking moans.  
"Going to . . . Lambert I'm . . . Can I-" He stopped for a moment, his cheek laid against her thigh as he looked up at her bothered.  
"The fuck do you mean can you? I'm getting lock jaw down here trying to get you to cum-" She laughed, he probably should've been concerned at how much laughter she had for him but he was funny, she found him funny, he didn't want that to change. "Don't ask me shit like that. I sure as fuck ain't going to let you tell me when I can and can't bust." These were not soft words but fuck Lambert just _wasn_ ' _t_ soft.  
"Just want you happy Berty. What I'm trying to-" She wanted to please him, even in her filth she always came after, always let him get his pleasure first. No one had ever put Lambert first.  
"You're happy, I'm happy, rinse fucking repeat Malo. Now are you going to let me finish?"  
"I . . . Right a show off." She smiled and laid her head back against some bushle if pillows. The first was nice but she sounded panicked, worried like that was the wrong response somehow, so he brought her there a second time to prove that's what he wanted and fuck her thighs clenched around his face and he wanted that snug focused feel again so he did it a third time. "Fuck!" She was shaky, overestimulated yet her hand in his hair made it clear, all for him, just him and no one else. "Breathe Berty." She panted as she let her hold go limp. "Your turn." She found her way to her knees and Lambert saw just how fucking bested she looked, he kissed her, which he shouldn't have, women didn't like that, the taste of themselves on-  
_'Fuck'_ Had he forgotten how to keep his eyes closed? When was her tongue going to stop surprising him but fuck if it wasn't sleazy and wonderful. She didn't lick him inch by inch but that was understandable, he was substantially harrier than she was. She did however kiss down his throat, down his chest, down his stomach. They weren't soft butterfly kisses but they weren't bites, they were focused tacticle kisses. She did let out a teasing lick at each one of those hips she found wonderful. Then he was in her fucking throat, just . . . Nestled there like it was where he belonged. "Fuck." He had definitely forgotten how to blink. She wasn't slow or soft, it was heavy almost crashing bobs up and down. "Fuck." He heard her gag. "Slow . . . Slow the fuck down Malo." She looked up at him a bit curious, maybe concerned. "S' good. . . Just want . . . Stay a while?" She inched down, holding his eyes that would dry into rasins eventually but it would be fucking worth it. She held his cock right in the back of her throat, drool pooling, eyes cooking. Lambert just stared at her in dark hungry disbelief, this was . . . Something new, he was used to quick fevered sex was this the slow she was talking about? Nothing about this moment was soft. It was something that he could deftly put in his preference column if his brain didn't melt. She wasn't going anywhere, staying, wanting him to stay with her. "Fuck." Her fingers were moving, teasing, probing with not much resistance, plenty of candied lemons slick allowing one finger to crook in and Lambert's spine straightened, he growled. _'She's going to try to fuck me. She . . . I did everything as an omega would. She's going to give me what she thinks I need.'_ He didn’t say anything, just growled like the trapped animal in the jaws of a beast he was. There was a second finger, scissoring, opening him. "Malo." He was angry, it felt fucking good but it . . . He didn't want to be fucked. Yet if he denied her, didn't give her what she wanted why would she stay? "Not . . . Yet?" Maybe another time, he'd gladly let her have him another time when he was in the mood to be fucked just not right now. A third finger, fuck if her digits weren't long and nimble, really exploring the fucking space, he was starting to see stars as she just rounded a bunch of nerves time and time again. She wasn't going to stop. She was going to take what was hers, an omega on fully fucking display for her. He wouldn't hurt her, didn't push her off, yet he was growing even more angry. Why pretend? Why act like he mattered? Like what he _wanted_ mattered. Her fingers left and he felt empty, just like she wanted him too. Her mouth peeled off him slowly, this was where she took his hair in her hand, shoved him face first in the nest he fucking made and took what she was gifted, ruined that touch that was just for him, there was nothing special about him. Except she didn't, except she was all the way in the corner of his nest, knees to her chest, small. "What . . . What are you doing?"  
"You're angry. I don't . . . Lambert I don't want you to fuck me when you're . . . _That_ angry."  
_'Fuck.'_ What had she said? "Fuck _you_?"  
"I-"  
"You were stretching me so that you could fuck _me_!"  
"I . . . Lambert I wasn't. If you thought that's what I was doing why didn't you stop me? I would have." He didn't have an answer that would do either one of them favors so he didn't.  
"What the fuck were you doing then? Lose the green house keys?" Lambert was quick to anger he was not quick to calm.  
"Some people like just. . . You know fingers." She shrugged a bit defeated. If Lambert thought about it, his body had been enjoying itself but thinking about it made him feel like shit so he didn't. "When you said not yet I thought you just didn't want to . . . I would have asked if you liked that but my mouth was somewhat preoccupied I got . . . _I_ was trying to show off Lambert. Leave it to the professionals I guess." She had been chaste and unsure and the second she got her confidence, to show that she did know how to please someone, he had swept her legs from under her.  
"You really weren't-"  
"Lambert I can go the rest of my life without fucking you." That both bolstered and bruised his ego.  
"But . . . You _want_ to."  
"I'm sure you'd like to touch me without giving me an audible but you don't because I don't want you to. I won't fuck you because _you_ don't want me to. Rinse fucking repeat."  
"Do you . . . You don't mind being . . ."  
"Fucked?" When she wasn't scared she wasn't shy. Loud and easy to talk to, this was better. "I've been complimenting your hips for ages Lambert and if they are half as attentive as your mouth, short of my ruts I can be happy being fucked."  
"Still? I won't fuck up this time." What atempt were they on? How many ways did he need Malo to ask him to fuck her.  
"You're not . . ." She seemed to stare at him for a minute.  
"Not what? Not going to punish you Marshmalo. Promise."  
"This is . . . Good angry?" She waved a hand infront of a face that likely wasn't much more friendly than it ever was.  
"Yes." He tried to smile, tried to look less an animal. He held out his hand, if she said no now . . . He could understand, this poor mood of theirs just being brought back to life only to kill it all over again. She was patient as anything though, taking his hand and moving from her safe little corner right into the arms of an asshole. "Feel . . . Better-" He couldn't bring himself to say safer, didn't want to linger on thoughts that he made her feel unsafe. "If you were ontop?" He was trying to scent her nerves away his face was deep in her hair.  
"You just want to lie down and be lazy about it." Fuck she was teasing again.  
"I look even more handsome laying down." He was smiling somewhat less forced now, some easy cocky smirk as he laid down.  
"Do you now?" Her knees bracketed his waist and she was slow and soft and he was inside her.  
"Fuck." Slow and soft, she was moving so slow and so fucking soft, he felt so . . . Warm, roasting under her rocking. "Fuck." _She_ was moving, _she_ was rocking, cooking him. The fuck was he doing? One hand gripped at her waist, angling her to match and meet heavy rises from his hips, he was watching her with scrutiny trying to notice small little differences and altering his rhythm accordingly, they didn’t find themselves going _slower_. Smelling the mint get a little bit sweeter when his free hand found one of her breasts. He kneeded at the flesh and she wasn't hurting, she was happy. For a moment his eyes caught on a line of crescents in her flesh, a bite, a deep one, an ugly one. He wasn't slow or soft he was nearly an animal but he wasn't a monster. She caught him staring. "I know . . . I'm marked up I-"  
"Don't-" his head tossed back as she churned something ungodly against him. "Give a shit bout that Malo. Keep moving like that and -" He didn't think, he just turned them, he was over her, in her, deeper, harder faster, her eyes were fluttering, rolling even. "Won't hurt like that ever Malo. Not with me, we'll just be how we like."  
"Lambert!" Her hands started in his hair sharp and focused then they ran, down his back, a little bit of claw, little bit of animal but fuck if that didn't have him tipping along with her. _'Soft slow, not an animal. One at a time, don't gotta be all.'_ A little bit of control but mostly _him_ , a tornado with limbs, mostly _her_ , a terror tantrum, mostly _them_ , a mess.

He did remember how to close his eyes, rolling over onto his side, a pleased grumble rolling out his chest. He heard her moving and he couldn't help but let that grumble turn to a growl. "Fighting real hard not to grab you." He followed her rule but he wasn't going to suffer in silence.  
"More? You really are-"  
"In a bit." He had worked real fucking hard to get this moment, he could be selfish for seconds. "Nest is big if you need space find a wall? Want the whole night."  
"For-"  
"For . . . Being me. I won't . . . Be me in a day or so. Want to leave an impression. Don't want you to be scared away from me."  
"Here all winter Berty." Her hand was combing through his hair again.  
"Here. With _me_. Want you to be with _me_ all winter. Will be worse than an asshole during my heat-"  
"I don't care how you are during your heat Berty. Heats are fucking weird." They both laughed at that, not in a fun way, in a bit of a bleak way.  
"Want to be me . . . For you." Gods what a clunky sentence. "Said you liked me."  
"I _do_ like you Berty."  
"You'll be there for me . . . If I fucking need you?"  
"I won't fuck you during your heat Lambert. You won't forgive me. But in any other way. You will have all the bread pudding I can remind you to eat."  
"Wouldn't forgive you." She understood him even when he made no sense. "Fuck me after?"  
"Lambert you never-"  
"If I want you to?"  
"Maybe." She was putting him first, trying so hard not to grab at anything that could be tainted by a rising heat in his brain.  
"Marshmalo?"  
"Yes?"  
"Delcot got the legs to make it to Lettenhove?"  
"What?"  
_'Fuck.'_ He hadn't meant to ask that, too fast, he was as always moving too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torn between tying this off in a nice little bow with the end of winter or stretching into spring (I blame my off kilter plot to point ratio I put in so much unnecessary back story)


	10. Too far gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end for C/W

He rolled them over, hovering above her. Maybe she would be more easily convinced pleased, he knew he was. "Ok?" She looked tense and he couldn't tell if it was the words or the actions that had her. "Marshmalo you alright?" Perhaps it had been too much touching, the day prior hugs were causing her to throw elbows. "We can-"  
"Can we . . . I'd . . . I don't like being on my back!" Her face went something pained and by this point he knew what that meant. Scared, angry at being scared, then more angry at being angry.  
"Yeah." And his hands were under her arms and he was standing fucking fast. "Legs round mine?" She didn't have to lay on her back if she didn't want to, that was a simple fucking request, he had plenty of other positions in mind.  
"You look so smug right now." They were still somewhat boney little bird legs but they were round his waist something wonderful, just fully encasing him.  
"Smug?" That wasn't a good thing was it? Though he was plenty of worse things and she still liked those bits.  
"I love it." Her arms went around his neck. "Berty?" She had finally done it absolutely broken his head, his brain was surely oozing out his ears.  
_'Loves it.'_ It didn't mean anything, well it meant she liked his face and that was great but she didn't _mean_ the word love. Lambert fully understood that but fuck if he didn’t want something he did to even be _spoken_ about that way.  
"S' ok?" He shook his head and pushed through the mental fog angeling her primed right above him.  
"Yes. . . " she kissed him, her kisses were nice, not crushing or commanding, he'd retaught her how to move her lips, most of all she always sounded half sighing, half content, with him. "Please." She pulled back but her eyes were trained on him, asking of him, wanting him.  
"Ain't seen smug Marshmalo." Lamberts kisses were less nice, they did crush a bit but once he slowed for her, just for her, it was worth the impact, he was nimble and attentive and anywhere his mouth could be, any bit of mint that he could taste was his, he was a selfish asshole. He was finally showing off, those hips she had wondered about were lifting her, right and fully tossing then catching her like the bagged rain she was. She was smiling, Lambert was smiling, he wasn't sure if he ever smiled during sex before, he had enjoyed sex before, plenty, it was one of if not his favorite pass time. it had always just been . . . Alone, even when he was with someone they were each chasing their own wants and happened to find it in one another's crotch. This was different, this was focused, this was together.  
"Bert . . . Berty. I-"  
"Like it Marshmalo?" He wanted her to _love_ it, say it again that she _loved_ it. She had put him first, turn about was fair play, he'd get if he gave? That made fucking sense.  
"Lambert!" Anyway she called him so long as she was calling him. "Fuck Lambert!" Her neck tossed back and his hand was at her throat, fingers scrambling at her pulse.  
"Curse for me Marshmalo." Her hands were sharp and fucking lovely in his hair, for two people who cherished personal space they really were grabbing at every available bit of one another. Lambert had a whole palm full of her ass, holding her firm as he rocked harder into her.  
"Fuck . . . Fuck. . . Lam . . . Lambert."  
"Like it Malo?" Love it he wanted her to _love_ it, to want more, to want _him_ , more of _him_ , maybe in the far flung future he wanted her to love him but that was a thought he had not the heart nor the head for in the moment. His mind was getting repetitive, his skin growing firey, it was nearly here, she had to want him before he became unwantable.  
"More." It wasn't the words he was searching for but what were words? Fucking bunk. "Please Berty, please . . ."  
"Please what Malo?" He was growling something good, something filling. He didn't think before he acted, he was too fucking fast. She had been holding her answer in her throat too long and to knock it loose that hand holding at her base went back and swatted against it, rough fast, a bit angry. _'Fuck!'_ She was going to think he was punishing her. "Not . . . Malo . . . I didn't. . ." He couldn't stop touching her, she literally stuck on him like a pike, the fuck was he supposed to do?  
"Good angry? Happy?" Her voice was nervous but also . . . Aroused, curious, trusting? She bit his ear, maybe a bit of payback, the best bit.  
"Happy." His palm ran to soothe, caress, hold, grip. This was dangerous, _he_ was dangerous.  
"Fucking fill me Lambert? Want to be fucking full, want to be spilling with how happy you are. Now wouldn't that be showing off." She was fucking loud and filthy! Gods she was everything.  
"Malo . . . Fuck." He was _just_ filth, just grunts and growls but she was empty and he could fix that, he was good at fixing things. He normally felt a cold shiver up his spine when he let himself tip but he felt nothing but warm, nothing but her.

He made sure to sit her down instead of laying her on her back, gave her some space, she needed some space. _He_ needed some space, he didn't want it, what he wanted was . . . Something he was trying to shove down deep, delay as long as possible. "Sorry." His head didn't hang low but did dip.  
"For what?" She had a pleased chuckle and fuck if that wasn't something he wanted more of.  
"You . . . I . . . It didn't bother you?"  
"The spank?"  
"Yes." He winced at hearing his mistake out loud, though it didn't sound as grave the light way she said it, her head cocked a bit adorable. "Wasn't punishment . . . Just . . ."  
"It sort of was." Malo shrugged, maybe looked a bit dim. She wasn't stupid, it hadn't come out of nowhere it had been because she hadn't answered him.  
"I-" He frowned, he'd fucked up, she didn't like it, let alone love it, he'd been just like those omegas she hated, she'd hate him. Though- "You should have told me to stop. I would have stopped."  
"Just like you did when you thought I was going to fuck you?"  
"Different. Got in my head, felt good though." He shrugged continuing to curse himself for being a brute. He could blame it on the heat but it was coming, not here yet.  
"Not . . . _So_ different." Malo was a bit red but she was kind, trying to give Lambert relief.  
"You-"  
"Don't want to be struck with a paddle, tied to a table, made to pay with skin, see how long it takes to make an Alpha cry-" She had that scared angry look again.  
"No." Lambert's fist clenched, he'd kill someone for trying, for suggesting, Malo's skin tasted best unbroken. "Wouldn't . . . Do all that. Seems like a lot of work." Even if she never fully trusted he wouldn't hurt her, she could trust he was lazy.  
"I . . . Am getting used to . . . Touching . . . Your touches and . . . I _like_ your touches. They aren't . . . They make me happy. They don't hurt." Happy, he made someone happy. He'd never heard those words before, had never thought to want them.  
"So? Do you fucking want me to or not?" He was trying not to make mistakes but the looser her rules got the easier it was for him to break them. "Won't ever fucking hurt you Malo."  
"You can be an asshole so long as you're never a monster Berty." He studied her face to see if this was an act of her patience, her endless allowance for him. "Felt fucking good alright? Don't know how don't know why. Doesn't make sense but-"  
"All you had to say Marshmalo." He kissed her for being merciful, straight forward, for liking it, liking him. _'Odd preferences.'_ Like him, liked things that went against her head. That was alright, they were alright, confusing as shit but alright.

"Malo?" His brain was getting hot, his hand kept pushing through his hair then round a throat that felt too tight yet wobbly at the same time. He'd want to be left alone soon, if he craned his ears he could hear his brothers clearing the armory out. Just not yet, he didn't want to hurt _yet_. Heat didn't care what he wanted but didn't mean he couldn't try to hold control a little longer.  
"Berty?" She probably had answered him once or twice already but his head couldn't stay fucking planted. Good thing she was patient.  
"Remember what you said . . . Bout how you would have me?"  
"Not going to fuck you Berty." She said it half offended half promising, fully flat.  
"I don't turn to a slick headed sap when the crow firat calls." It wouldn't be till fully in his heat that he'd be welcoming all comers.  
"What about it then?" She was patient but she was sexed a bit tired.  
"Said you'd . . . Spread it on me . . . Mint . . . Think it'd calm me a bit longer . . . The smell . . . Don't got to but-"  
"I . . ." Her face pinched a bit embarassed, a bit of that scared angry look. He had gone from asking for her to stick a toe in the waters to see if she'd enjoy it to asking for, as she put it, her to pull a dick out of kidneys but that was Lambert, he didn't take things slow. A memory hit him, this was not a pleasant one.

"That's not right." He could hear an instructor state a bit alarmed. It definitely wasn't what you wanted to hear after being pumped with unstable mutagens that exterminated more boys than it enhanced. _What_ wasn't right?  
"Ahhhhh!" His body wasn't right, his organs, his bones, everything was melting and freezing, hardening in a way muscles and marrow shouldn't. "Ahhhhhh!" He tried to run. He was fast, could he outrun this? The pain? The turn? "Burns! My . . . My . . . I'm . . .Ahhhh!" It didn't matter that Lambert's throat bottomed out into a haunted howl, no words would have done what he was experiencing justice.  
"He's already . . . Unlucky little bastard." What? What was happening? "Tip to crown not all at once boy." The man scolded as if this was Lambert showing off.  
"Not. . . Ahhhh!" He wasn't _trying_ to mess this up, he wasn't _trying_ anything other than keeping his bones from jutting out his skin, his eyes from slipping from his skull, his teeth from drilling out his jaw. His body was running, sprinting and stampeding into and away from itself. The wolf was chasing the boy, catching him, devouring him whole.  
"Try not to focus on the pain boy. Breathe." There was no air to breathe, only adrenalin, only suffering. He was the first to scream, the other boys were grunting and groaning uncomfortable but not unbearable. He was the first to see the world go black, of the nine boys to wake from the grasses, he was the first. He saw the world in a heightened blurry assaulting light first and alone. He couldn't comfort his brothers who he'd find out later had roughly four more hours to go. They couldn't congratulate or console him as he shook and spun in place. The instructors had their hands full with the others, after a brief moment discussing if taking all the affects of the mutations at once would make him a candidate for more, then deciding his body couldn't take it, he was told to get some rest and was taken away, alone. It would happen again with the trial of dreams, first, alone. Again with the medallion, fastest, first, alone. He had to deal with all his changes, his world changing, hurt tired and alone. What he was best at, made him stand out, kept him alive, was like most traits of a witcher, a gift and a curse. As long forgotten memories faded he became aware ofsomething, in the moment he wasn't alone.

"Marshmalo you're not. . ." She had turned into a bit of a ball, curling in, grunting and whimpering slightly. "Can I . . . Anything make it hurt less?" He gave a small kiss to her shoulder, a passive reminder she didn't have to be cold and alone.  
"No." It was biology, he could fix a lot but not that. She was smaller still, but the discomfort was gone, atleast the physical discomfort, she was red in a way Lambert had no taste for, embarrassed about her body. She was hiding it from him, making mousy little movements trying to get results for her selfish witcher.  
"Like to . . .Watch?" He wanted her to know he liked all of her, however she was, wouldn't run on her.  
"Don't touch." She unfurled, it was clear this was a state she felt most uncomfortable, most vulnerable, maybe less right.  
"Fucking won't Malo." He placed his hands up in the air. He watched her face more than anything that and her wrist, trying to commit and link the movements in his head. She was doing this all for him, because he wanted it. When his mind reformed he'd spoil her, dote on her in this state so that she'd blush bested, he wanted to bask in victory, more importantly he wanted to stay. "Malo . . . All the time?"  
"Huh?" He had broken her concentration and her eyes looked amused but . . . Sad and that crushed him. Was he pushing her too far?  
_'My fucking head.'_ He laid a punch into his steaming skull but before he could lay another Malo was fucking faster, which took him by surprise, she had his wrist in her fingers.  
"Use your words you fucking lump. You haven't left me yet have you?" Still sad in the eyes but her words were teasing, fond. She was a good Alpha, not a normal one, not one that gave into wants simply, or cooed endearments but she could change her words, she'd done so for Jaskier, said just what he needed and she was giving Lambert the same, transitioning into something that didn't blow at the breeze because that's what he needed, a weight to keep him in place.  
"No." He didn't leave yet, didn't _want_ to leave. It sounded as a whine because he finally had somewhere he wanted to be, someone he wanted to be with and his head was drifting to meld with his dick.  
"Slow down. The fuck were you trying to say Berty?"  
"Look such the right kind of mess all the time. Fucking perfect Malo, perfect little mess Malo." He just kept saying her name because he couldn't touch yet he wanted her to know she was all that was on his mind. He had also said the word mess more than once and women didn't like that. Yet she was smiling something crooked, maybe it was because she wasn't a woman she was Malo. _'My Marshmalo.'_ He had some self restraint still, he kept that sentence to himself.  
"And if . . . If-" Her breaths were faster, her face red in the right way, her lips bested in a way he wanted. He could hear want in her voice smell thick mint start to hit the air.  
"If what Malo?" He smelled it spill, it was likely the scent of his heat blossoming that had her so quick to rise and fall.  
"If I wanted to make you my mess?" Her hand was coated in the stuff and it ran right up against his cheek smearing into his skin.  
"Fuck." It should have made him angry, should have felt demeaning but he was calmer, breathing better and it felt fucking fantastic. "Not here yet but . . . I need-" He was moving, forgetting his rule, kissed her, then her navel, he went lower but was stopped.  
"No." She had his chin in her hand, it wasn’t a scared tone, just an adamant one. He let out another unbecoming whine at being denied.  
"I-" She was good, too good, too smart. Her thumb was in his mouth, he had an oral fixation of sorts even with his head screwed on right, that was something anything with two eyes and something that could be bitten was aware of. The pressure on his tongue, the fill of the space it was everything he needed. Not what he _wanted_ though, the line between want and need was growing blurrier by the second. He wanted to bite, looking up a bit gloss eyed, he wanted to bite into her throat, hard, Mark her he- "Fuck!" He was off of her absolutely as far away from her as he could get.  
"Lambert?" In calming down he'd been able to see them, notice and make a judgment call about them, those scars covering her body. He was going to be just as bad, do just what they did, he was going to be a monster. Worse yet she would all but let him. Let him mangle and destroy the little slice of not angry, not alone, he had.  
"No!" He grabbed his head in one hand and his trousers in the other. "Stay the fuck away from me Malo!" He had punished her, touched her without asking, she had said no to him, and while none of these things were major transgressions, things not even forgiven but welcomed, he'd only get worse. Only need more, ask for more, beg and grab at what he wanted because he was an omega and she was an alpha and he couldn't fix biology. "Not . . . Fucking not your fault." He was more than flared angry, he was fucking on fire but he didn't want her to pack up the blame and run. Heat wasn't coming it was _here_.  
"Lambert what-"  
"Stay here." He barked, and then took a big swelling breath through an aching chest. "Please." He sounded so wounded, so hurt, because he was. The person who could comfort him rightly, make this heat bearable was right infront of him. All he had to do was destroy all his hard work, put any future possibilities in jeporday, risk hurting her, breaking her. "Gotta . . . Gotta protect the helpless human from the monster don't I?" He chuckled in the brief moment of clarity as he stumbled out of the nest.  
"Berty you're not a monster." She sounded so sure, despite the fact that the pleasing smell of mint was turning scared and ashy.  
"Yeah I . . ." Fuck he couldn't help himself so fucking selfish. "Be back in no time Malo. Don't get all fucking mopey." He lingered, he shouldn't linger, should be fast, should be fucking sprinting. "Know you said . . . Can . . . Before I go Marshmalo just-" She was out and on him and had a hand right in his hair holding him from spinning out of control. His face jutted forward, wanted, just wanted, he didn't need anything yet, just wanted unbearably. "Please . . . I . . ." He was growling, he was whining, he was already pathetic.  
"Slow Berty. Breathe a couple times for me." She pulled him right up against that throat he wanted to bite into. He ground his teeth shut, all he could do was inhale deep through his nose and it was . . . Better. He kissed at her neck, let his tongue slide out at up it's curve, letting any cooling properties it had slip into him. His teeth though, he didn't even notice till it was too late, till they had pressed against her flesh. Another growl another whine, he couldn’t let go but he wouldn't press in, he let them rake down cross her skin. He heard it, a gasp from her as he did so. With some stubborn determination, he held at her waist. _'Mine.'_  
"Berty don't-" Then he released her, in a panic, then he ran.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" This was par for the course when it came to Lambert's heat, running for the armory, storm in his face and shirtless.  
"One more glance over Lambert. You tend to hide daggers in new and alarming places. Why of anywhere in the keep you'd want to have a heat in such an unwelcoming-" They were all in his space, his, they needed to be out, gone, he wanted to be alone, needed to be alone.  
"Out! Now!" He had the bard by the shoulders escorting him less than gracefuly out of the room.  
"We just don't want a repeat of-" Eskel!  
"You!"  
"Me?" Eskel was confused but this was Lambert so he just waited to be shouted at.  
"I was . . . Kind of shitty to Malo. Can you . . . Go . . . Be you . . . With her?" Malo probably deserved a hug and a stiff drink. Lambert's teeth were melting out of his skull was all and he didn't have the coherent thought to give her whatever she needed. Because he was an asshole in heat, he didn't ease over days in a well orchestrated production like Jaskier did, he crashed into his heats, fucking head first and hard.  
"How . . . Kind of shitty Lambert? Hop on a horse into the night shitty? I'm not here to sweet talk her when you're a bastard."  
"Then the fuck are you here for?" Lambert didn't _mean_ that. He meant to say that there were things he didn't . . . Get, things he didn't think of, despite how obvious and well and good they might be. Eskel saw sides to things he didn't and he was asking his brother for help. That is not what he said. "Don't think she'd run . . . Don't think she's got the legs for it."  
"Lambert I'm going to ask you this because I have to, not because I think it's who you are. Did you hurt Malo?" Enough of Eskel's eyes held worry in them to send Lambert's rage burning even fucking hotter. He swung but Eskel was not about to be sucker punched twice in one winter. He had Lambert by the scruff of his neck, shoved him down, knee right above the small of his back.  
"CALM DOWN!" Geralt had finally completed his third or forth check to make sure there were no lingering weapons in the armory.  
"I am fucking calm!" He was not fucking calm, he was panting face first and red hot into the stone floor. "When has that ever fucking worked?! Telling someone to calm down? Get the fuck off of me Eskel!" He craned his neck to look up at his brothers, staring at him like the sad little pup that he was. "Where the fuck is-"  
"Went for a walk." Jaskier squatted down, he ran a hand through Lambert's hair, trying to soothe but it was petting and playing and Lambert was in no mood, snapping his head away.  
"JASKIER!" Every winter, every single time Geralt had to warn him. "He does not enjoy this part Jaskier . . . Give him space."  
"This part." Lambert spat, he hated every part but Geralt was right and Jaskier would never understand. Normally this was the best bit for omegas, this was close to what Geralt and Malo felt during a rut, themselves but more, themselves but ravenous, it was fun, it was indulgent it was being lucid and pampered with all the best feelings all the best care. It devolved from there, the next day was disjointed, still enjoying but not having the mind to appreciate it, the next day was not enjoyable, it hurt, you needed more than you hurt though and you needed till you were incapable of needing anymore, then you burned out. Thing of it was Lambert didn't like who he was, what he was, being lucid and more, it pushed him too hard, he was already too much. He'd rather be mindless, rather be needing than wanting. The wanting hurt in a worse way to the witcher because then it was his fault, his mistake.  
"I'm going to check on Malo. Get her . . . Up to speed." Eskel's knee was slowly pulling out from deep in Lambert's spine. "When you've let off some steam we'll come-" Lambert's hand swung back, clawed into Eskel's arm.  
"Keep her up there Eskel! I will hurt her! I will! I fucking will! Keep her away from me! Please. I don't ask you fuckers for anything just-" Eskel's hand at the back of his neck was gone, replaced with Geralt's, he wasn't being comforted by his brothers he was being contained, caged, like you did with an animal, a monster, they knew how to deal with monsters, Malo didn't.  
"Lambert . . . STOP." Geralt sounded uncomfortable, less confident, he didn't sound like himself.  
"Stop what?! You stop!" Lambert thrashed and clawed, tried to force his knees and elbows up Geralt just slammed him down harder. "Eskel I swear. If you let her down here. Let me to get to her . . . I'll never forgive you! Any of you. I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!" He was giving Malo a run for her money in the loud department. "Don't make me . . . Please!"  
"STOP!" Geralt's grip grew firmer, edging on crushing. Eskel was leaving, going to Malo, off to say words that sounded smart, sounded right but would cost Lambert everything, cost him happy, cost him mint, cost him winter.  
"When I hurt her you'll . . . Don't let her run Eskel! She's a twiggy thing, shit in the snow." A full sentence without cursing, he had some sense in the scramble.  
"LAMBERT STOP!" Geralt let out an exhausted sigh. Was his brother getting too old for this shit? Things were just getting started.  
"Stop what? I can't fucking move!"  
"Stop fighting it." Geralt sounded . . . Apologetic? Sad? Was it pity? It was fucking pity. "We're here for you Lambert." No the fuck they weren't. He was face down, pinned, fully fucked and soon he'd be begging for more. "Now if you want space-"  
"I want your hands the fuck off of me!" And to Geralt's credit they were, Lambert was up on his feet at the first chance he got. Lambert and Geralt were pacing round each other for a moment, the air was hot, Lambert's skin was hot, his blood boiling, head throbbed. "Don't." Geralt's tone was flat, neutral, there was no threat there. "I'll leave if you want." His hands were up in the air as if there was a blade at his throat, stepping backwards, refusing to turn blind to Lambert. You never bear your back to a beast, to a monster, that's how you end up dead. "Unless you want me to stay. I'll stay if you want me to. If you're afraid of hurting Malo I-"  
"Get. Out." Lambert wanted to swing, wanted to strike, knock the pity straight out out of Geralt's pretty face. He needed space, he could still distinguish the two, he wasn't so far gone. "Won't ask fucking nicely a-"  
"Here." Geralt gave a frustrated grunt and threw a key at Lambert, stepped fully out of the armory. He didn't move far, there was a bench right by the door, the bard already sat at it, looking mopey as anything. Geralt slouched in next to him, scenting into the bard's neck. Jaskier was cooing something about things being alright, that the brothers were alright, Geralt grumbled something hurt. _Nothing_ was alright and Lambert was already bruising his family. Lambert's mind shot to his own teeth in Malo's skin. He slammed the door, locked it, fucking tossed the key off into some corner.

Alone he could do what he wanted, fists and fury and pain, hurt that he brought on himself. He broke knuckles into walls, smashed his skull into stone, blood, his blood, all there needed to be this time. They _were_ righ,t he had to calm down, but fuck if he could. _'Breathe Berty._ ' She made it sound so simple but he tried, he fucking tried. _'Mint.'_ That calmed him down, made him less angry. He could think about her, he couldn’t hurt her thinking. Anger eventually did dip, or rather drown. As calm as mint made him, it also stirred him. Calm and storm. Those fingers that were swelling from the self induced punishment twitched, bid to move. He thought back to right before she said no, to what he was going to do, going to reciprocate. He wanted to slow for her, hold her in the back of his throat and just stay there, focus on her let her hand hold him, her eyes linger pleased with him, he wanted to just wash out, no room for mistakes. His fingers were moving, maybe it was the busted joints that made the work . . . Lacking, less. It still felt good, was what he needed, his muscles were flexing and stretching round his fingers, sliding with slick. What he needed but not what he _wanted_. _'Saw fucking stars.'_ Her fingers were thin and soft and in no particular rush to open him, that was what he _wanted_. _'After. Ask for it after.'_ His teeth went out and ran across the floor, a sickly awful sound as he continued to thrust unkind fingers inside himself, he needed to stretch, needed release, he didn't need to enjoy it. This was worse, now that he knew what enjoying it, being allowed to enjoy it, feeling right enjoying it felt like, he wanted to enjoy it. Wanting hurt more, always had, always would. "Fuck!" His head was split, he'd go mad with all these contradictions.  
"Lambert-" Geralt tried again. "What can we-"  
"Don't need you to do shit."  
"Is there something you want?" The word of the day tossed around in his brain a bit. He couldn't have what he wanted most, but he was allowed to want, he had come to grips with that.  
"Where are they?"  
"The-"  
"My gwent deck Geralt. The fucking wooden dicks!"  
"You . . . Want them? Already?" Geralt sounded like he was somewhere between hopeful and skeptical.  
"Never the fuck mind I'm not in the mood to beg just yet." Armory was a big space, but they were likely stashed in some crate.  
"I . . . No! I'm not trying to make you beg Lambert . . . Was just worried you'd snap em like last time."  
"My heat, can do what I want with em. What you widdle them yourself Geralt? Worried I'll break your fucking craftsmanship?" Lambert felt good standing up, his knees had a repulsive shake to them but he liked standing.  
"Worried about when you regret that you broke them." Geralt sounded a bit queasy. Right that had ended badly last year, pain was fine, splinters were a bitch. "They're under the club rack on the left." A bit less skepticism a bit more hope.  
"Good thing you moved the fucking clubs hell of a mistake that'd fucking be." During his heat, was he smirking? It was still the very beginning, just the transition stage but that had never in all Lambert’s years happened before.  
"Yeah." Geralt sounded so fucking relieved. Did he want to hear Lambert toss one off that bad?  
"This do something for you pretty boy?" Lambert almost wished not every fucking blanket was up in that nest upstairs. _'Cold and alone.'_ Shot to his brain for a brief second and quickly faded. Heats were uncomfortable, he'd live, he got back on his knees and finally made good use of the stupid amount of slick he was creating. Geralt didn't quite know how to answer giving some noncommittal grunt. Lambert tried to be slow but he also wanted to get this over with, impatience beats out comfort everytime. It was a blitz, just unrelenting and brutal, he wanted to start so eventually he could stop.  
"Lambert . . . Maybe be . . . Kind to yourself? Least at first?" Jaskier squeaked, it could barely be heard over Lamberts grunt.  
"Getting . . ." It was doing the trick, he grabbed at his own cock like a vice. "Results Dandelion." It could have been a moan, or Lambert could have been punched in the gut, the sound was indistinguishable. This part was annoying, it just didn't stop, he didn't have a moment to breathe before he needed more, before the pressure in his body was climbing again. He repeated the cycle a few times, quite a few times, it was morning before he registered time again. He was sweating and aching and burning fucking alive, till eventually he slumped forward something shaky, knocked his skull against the floor despite or maybe egged on by Geralt's protests against it. He needed a break and he'd fucking get it, eventually found the right spot, spilled just enough blood to pass out for a few minutes.

He smelled it before he felt it, betrayal. Like a fucking idiot he scrambled right up to the door as mint grew nearer. He had asked, he had said fucking please for her to be kept away and yet he could hear her footsteps. He let out another whine as she grew closer still. There was a tap on the door. "Go. Away." He was sore and swollen and hurting inside and out. His brothers were clearly incompassionate assholes but maybe Malo would show some mercy, some higher thinking.  
"Food." She sounded maybe . . . He couldn't tell how she sounded, it was something he heard her at all over the blood pumping through his ears. His hand went up to the door, it wasn’t enough that his knuckles were busted and bloodied but he was raking his nails down the wood, they were cracking under the clawing. He wanted her but- "Don't need you." His voice was a bit dry from all the howling and cursing he had done.  
"I know." There was a long pause.  
"Malo?" Was she going to leave? He did just ask her to leave. When had his whole torso pressed up against the door. Why was there nutmeg over mint? Was he dry humping this door? "He . . . Eskel get off of her. She's not . . . Mine." His head clunker into this poor door.  
_'No one is property here.'_ He remembered Jaskier's words but tell that to all the adrenalin surging through Lambert's fucking chest. The primal and at the moment primary part of his brain did want Malo to be his, just his.  
"You _do_ need food Lambert." Malo spoke again, she sounded . . . The fuck did she sound like? "You asked not for more but the same as Jaskier remember? So I had your permission to bring you food."  
"Leave it." Those words stung and it wasn't just his wrung out vocal cords.  
"Will you just take it? I didn't make this just for the thrill of cooking Berty! Fruit salad this is not. I had to-" Fuck if she wasn't loud.  
"I'll . . . Touch you." His fingers were in no shape to form quen.  
"What if I step back a bit? Out of reach?" That wasn't enough, Lambert was fast and wanting her something menacing, he'd have her in a blink.  
"Eskel you . . . Holding her?" It sounded like a question with no good answer.  
"I am." This got some panicked breaths out of Lambert.  
"Keep . . . Her safe from me?"  
"If I have to." Maybe that was enough. Lambert was fast but he was also out of his mind, he wouldn't overtake Eskel in his sorry state.  
"The fuck I throw that key?" He smiled because the air on the other side of the door was less putrid, he could hear pleased hums from his brothers. He stood even less straight this time, a forward leaning wobble round the armory till he found the elusive bit of steel. The door creaked open and he reached out, he heard Malo gasp again, scared again. Likely got a glance at how feral he was and finally fucking realized what sort of danger she was in. He pulled in the tray and slammed it shut.  
"Anything else you fucking want? Not in the mood to show off"  
"Please don't . . . Hurt yourself so much Berty." That time he heard it, not scared, fucking sad. "I thought if . . . Berty do you want anything from me?" She was smart, she was patient, she had listened he already told her he didn't need her.  
"Go. Away." He forced the words out. "Please. I'll . . . It'll be over soon." That wasn't entirely a lie, days was sooner than months.  
"I'll have someone else bring you lunch Berty."

She was leaving, why was mint still lingering? He could hear her stomp up the stairs, knew Eskel's flat feet anywhere, chasing after her, yet mint was- _'The bread pudding.'_ He looked down at it, took a decent breath and sure as shit there was mint in there. "I'm an asshole." He wasn't reflecting on dismissing her, she had to go. He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want her to hate him. Though she was caring for him any way she knew how and he hadn't even said thanks.  
"She's not a priestess, she's seen a heat before Lambert she's not upset with you. This isn't about her it's-" Geralt spoke up. Lambert was only half listening spooning the somewhat odd concoction into his face.  
"Not like mine." The syrupy sweetness of it mixed oddly with the crisp mint but Lambert couldn't care less it was soft and warm and for him and no one else. No one else would likely want such a mix but it slid down his throat slow and gentle, he wanted every last bit.  
"Maybe like yours." Jaskier offered, which was worse, maybe she'd been tossed in a room with someone like Lambert and that made his teeth squeak between gulps.  
"She just wants to help." Geralt sounded fucking exhausted, which Lambert couldn't tell why, he was doing all the hard work. "We all do."  
"You want to help?" It was an ugly mocking sneer as he ran the back of his palm cross his lips.  
"I don't get . . . _Joy_ out of this Lambert. I'm not some prick waiting for you to lose your mind so I can have my way with you. You know that. You . . . Do know that right? You used to believe that Lambert." He really was an asshole, he had upset both Alphas, both kind agreeable alphas by spitting in their faces, preferring to bleed than accept aid, let them believe he didn't trust them. That wasn't it, well wasn't it _mostly_. He did have this fully warranted worry of being pinned and taken but that was just instinct. He didn't think Geralt would really do that, he was growing to believe Malo would never do that. His distrust . . . It was of himself of what he'd do, what he deserved. Lambert didn't respond. He didn't speak to anyone the rest of the day. He was fucking busy. Heat hadn't stopped, he was hard and hurting despite any mental epiphanies and it took till after Eskel dropped off his second breakfast for Lambert to make any words outside of curses at blushing gods.

"I . . . Geralt?"  
"Yes?"  
"I . . . Need your help." There was silence from the other end of the door. "What you die from shock over there?"  
"Nearly." Geralt sounded . . . Less exhausted. "What do you need Lambert . . . We're all here . . . For you. Anything that helps you."  
"Dandelion?"  
"Yes?!" If Geralt sounded less exhausted Jaskier sounded absolutely filled with misguided enthusiasm and mirth.  
"Still ain't a fucking party bard." Lambert thought, he wanted it not to hurt worse than it had to, and doing it alone was surely making it fucking worse, for everyone. "When yours starts what do you do?" Advice, Kaer Morhen was built on preaching words of long dead witchers, if there was a question he could find the answer here. "Outside the obvious."  
"Very beginning? Geralt and I share a bath and I make him listen to the material I've been working on over winter."  
"I cannot escape, nor can I be too harsh a critic." Geralt grumbled but it was amused, he didn't hate the practice clearly.  
"Gives us time to see . . . How I'm feeling where my head is at. I have bad winters too Lambert. We can usually tell by baths end how shrill a siren I intend on being."  
"I don't sing." He hurt, he hunted, he killed.  
"You barely bathe Lambert." Geralt joked, none of them, not a single one of them had ever cracked a joke during his heat.  
"Ok skip ahead . . . We're passed seeing if I'm in a good mood."  
"You're never in a good mood." Jaskier tested teasing, was this going to be the whole time? Lambert could think of worse things. He liked hearing them speak over the whines and groans he was making, it had him feeling less alone.  
"Not." His eyes got a little hazy as he craned himself fuller, let a ceader knot just hold in him for a moment, focusing his attention on his actual flesh and blood cock. "She . . .bagged rain." He rode an almost bearable pleasant shiver, could almost feel her fingers in his hair. "Want it."  
"Malo's toy? She will gladly lend it to you I'm sure. Malo! Malo Lambert-" At hearing only half a request Jaskier was up and about to kick down her fucking door for something he thought Lambert wanted.  
"Her hands . . . Touch. Want her to touch me." The shiver was long but not everlasting. "Will hurt her." His hand just kept moving kept tugging, was relentless. "Can't . . . Promised. Already speared as it is can't handle a stabbing."  
"She's not going to stab you Lambert. She-"  
"I will. If I hurt her-"  
"How do you want her to touch you Lambert?" Geralt tried to ground the battling ideals if omegas. One who wanted to try anything once and one who didn't trust his own whims and wants.  
"Mmm." And every one of Lambert's muscles clenched tighter, fucking pulsed, he wanted to lay out on his stomach and lounge like a fucking cat for it, she had described it so well. Though as shivers became spasms he felt loose and a bit erratic.  
"What if . . . Like when you had her cry?"  
"What?!"  
"What I mean is. . . Eskel can protect Malo just fine. You know he won't let anyone hurt her right?"  
"He likes holding her . . . He . . .Fuck he fist fought a forktail for that goat of his." Eskel liked Malo and Eskel was a nice guy all things considered, he only had to not actively despise you to protect you. "Won't let anyone hurt her but-"  
"I can hold you back, if you trust me. I'll make sure you don't do anything you'll regret but you'd have to let me in. I'll keep you safe . . . For the both of you."  
"If I hurt you?"  
"THIS-" Geralt growled. "THIS IS HURTING ME LAMBERT." Then he sighed. "I'll gladly let you throw some of those pointy elbows at me if it means you don't ride this out alone."  
_'If you hurt. It hurts me Berty.'_ He looked down at his hand wrapped around his red and raw dick, looked at the dried blood over cracked skin, his lip was broken in multiple spots from bites, his eyebrow had been busted open after a few well aimed headbutts to knock himself unconcious. He was hurting, he was used to the hurt. He thought of Malo's scars, so was she. He didn't want her to hurt because of him . . . She was nicer than him, she likely hated that he was hurting because of her. "Defending is important . . . Fixing-"  
"Not always fixing Lambert." Geralt was speaking slow again, like this was important, something Lambert really should fucking listen to. "Sometimes you need to let them . . . Fix you."  
"Even." Lambert sighed. "Think . . . Think if I say sorry she'll bring me lunch?"  
"I think if would make her very happy Lambert." Geralt sounded like he might be smiling.  
"Maybe . . . If I ask real fucking nice-"  
"You want her to feed you Lambert?" He'd seen it, during Jaskier's own heat, Geralt making sure he ate, passing food from finger to lips, soft, slow. Lambert couldn't say it but fuck if Lambert in heat wasn't good at whining wounded and fucking angry.

He had spent and slept through lunch, he woke up to his stomach rumbling at the smell of mint. "M . . .Malo?" He was tired, sweaty, sticky and straining.  
"Berty if you don't want me here . . . If it will make you hurt your-"  
"Won't." He crawled to the door. "Please. Stay." He was hungry, thirsty, delirious, aching, angry, a mess. "Will you . . . Marshmalo . . . Like you did before . . . Just keep me from spinning."  
"LAMBERT?" Was she just as loud as always or was he getting a concussion?  
"Yes?"  
"Can you open the door so Geralt can come in?"  
"Never fucking relocked it. Whose got the time." Lambert wasn't sure he could stand, wasn't sure his legs had much feeling.

Geralt walked in and his face was set something determined. He came up behind Lambert and that had him panicking. "GONNA HOLD YOUR ARMS BEHIND YOUR BACK LAMBERT." He grabbed one arm and Lambert thrashed. "LAMBERT!"  
"Let go of me!" Lambert was pulling with all his might to get free as the other one was contained and held  
"You want Malo right?"  
"Malo?!" Lambert could smell mint go a bit ashy and pulled harder still, his shoulders were going to dislocate. His hips were jutting and rutting at air. "Here. Here. Malo I fucking need-" He barely registered the door opening again it wasn't Malo . . . Well she was there but behind the wall that was Eskel. "Move." Lambert snarled.  
"MALO." Why was Geralt getting that tone with her? "ARE YOU SURE?"  
"Yes." He could hear her, why wouldn't they let him see her? Let him have her? He wanted her, wanted her to hold him, have him, use him.  
"Malo? I want. Fuck . . . Will you fuck me Malo?"  
"No." Was her simple reply but he could smell it, she had biology she couldn't fight either. She wanted him, wanted to breed him or as the state of things were, plow into his barren well.  
"Can. Let you. Want you to." This wasn't him, he was losing himself to the heat.  
"BE SURE. I WON'T LET YOU HURT HIM." Geralt wasn't his alpha but he was his brother, was trying to protect him. He didn't need protecting, what he needed was a knot, Malo's knot.  
"Can. Can fucking hurt me. Already fucking hurt Malo. Just fuck me. Please fuck me. I'll hurt if you _don't._ "  
"No." Was that the only fucking word she knew?  
"LAMBERT SIMMER." Geralt's hold grew firmer, his voice grew a bit scolding. Why? What was he doing wrong? This was a heat. He was being an omega in heat and wasn't doing it alone, what more did they want from him? "Malo isn't . . . That's not what you want."  
"It is! Malo it is!" Lambert was fucking panting for it.

"IT'S NOT WHAT SHE WANTS." Which was a load of shit. Lambert could smell her lust, hear her swallow hard at his decrees, she wanted him. She didn't want to hurt him though, wasn't an asshole, wasn't a monster, she was patient, willing to wait. If he was going to get what he needed he was going to have to say something else, ask in another way. Humans were emotional, women loved romantic words he could try that.  
"Can . . . What do you want to hear Malo? That I love you? I'll say it if you fuck me, Marshmalo. I'll love you alright? Yeah?" He smelled salted water, was she holding back tears? That was fair Who wanted to be loved by a monster?  
"LAMBERT QUIET." Geralt's hand went over Lambert's mouth. "YOU'RE HURTING HER." Maybe it was the clamp over his jaw or maybe it was Geralt's words but Lambert was hyperventilating. "Malo go back upstairs he can't . . . He trusted me to keep him safe, you safe. I have to-"  
_'No! Malo please don't leave, don't hurt, don't cry. Stay I'll do whatever, say whatever, just want me, fucking have me Malo. No one fucking gets me . . . Get me please!'_  
"THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?" Malo pushed past Eskel, yanked at Geralt's hand off of Lambert's mouth.  
"PROTECTING HIM. THAT'S MY JOB MALO. GO UPSTAIRS! You don't understand what this is doing to him." All these agressive Alpha words were rattling Lambert's skull. That and he hadn't touched his cock in . . . Years? Months? Minutes? He needed someone to relieve the pressure before he died.  
"HE DOESN'T NEED YOUR PROTECTION." Did she believe in Lambert’s strength? Even now in this pitiful weak and vulnerable state. He wanted to do something to prove her right, to have earned this faith.  
"Malo." Instead he just whined.  
"LOOK AT HIM." No, for the first time since he knew that look to exist, he didn't want that deep tunneling focus on him.  
"Don't. Please. Fuck me but don't look-" She likely didn't hear that whispered plea. Her eyes lingered on him, saw him, sweat, slick, spend, blood, bruises, breaks, he was-  
"There's my mess." Sharp fucking fingers in his hair, tugging his face up to look at her proper. She was looking at him . . . Like she always looked at him, like he made a lick of sense. "SLOW." Her face was moving closer to his.  
"Can't." He growled, nothing about heats were slow, nothing about him was slow. Fast and angry that's all he was.  
"For me?" She kissed him and it wasn't soft or nervous, it was firm like a fucking wall, brought Lambert to a stop. "BREATHE." She pulled back rubbing her scent along his neck.  
"Will you fuck me?"  
"NO." She was patient, didn't even acknowledge his craining and churning hips. "I'm going to clean you up a bit." It sounded like care, like codling, till it wasn't, till her tongue rode a claiming line up his cheek and that had Lambert keening. "Feed you." Two of her fingers found their way into his mouth and his tongue welcomed any insertion and motive, started swirling, sucking any bit of mint that he could get, loving as they went further, wanted more of him, it made his eyes flutter, his throat click in enthusiasm. "Then I'm going to learn you Berty." Her hand went to his cock and he was fairly certain his heart exploded.  
"Malo . . . Marshmalo. Perfect mess Malo want to be . . . Want you to L-" He spoke over her fingers, unphased by how gaping and wet that made his face.  
"You'll make it through winter you asshole." Mint gave him a moment of clarity. She was going to give him not what he wanted but what he needed, she wanted to do that for him. Her voice was filthy and confident, why were her eyes sad? His face pulled back. "Did . . . Fuck . . . Geralt did I hurt her?" Had he blacked out, had he done something awful? He couldn't fucking move but if anyone could hurt while being held it was Lambert.  
"This isn't for me Berty. For you. We're here for you Berty."  
"Did. Did fucking hurt you. Tell me. Fucking tell me Geralt. Eskel? Eskel you said you'd protect her. Did I fucking hurt her?"  
"You . . . Did." Eskel didn't elaborate.  
"Fix? Fuck. Fuck me. Hurt me back. I want to fix it Malo." She wasn't though, her fingers were at his cock getting an easy orgasm out of the witcher. Why was she helping if he was hurting her?  
"This is heat Lambert . . . Don't say stupid things like love again alright?" Right, he had offered the word in exchange for her knot. Had she taken that to mean that's all he cared about, all he loved about her? All that mattered when it came to her? Was her head at that port he was going to blow up?  
_'Fuck.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Not gratuitous or gore but there is self harm scattered throughout the chapter as Lambert quickly loses his mind.
> 
> Feedback / expectations on Lamber's heat are welcomed, I know this was a ton of build for a moment that's finally arriving.


	11. Here for the heat

"Will you be alright if I go get some water and a rag Lambert?"  
"St . . ." He wanted her to stay, through it, keep that hand in his hair, hold him, ground him. "Yes." She would try to run again when this was over, he had upset her with that word. _'Love. Fuck. Hurt . . . All the same to a asshole like me.'_ Yet Malo was patient even when she was hurt, she was going to help him through this heat and Lambert was far too gone, too selfish to object. "Sorry." That was all he could muster for her and it was a groan at that, as her free roaming fingers were tracing his muscles.  
"Actually . . . Jaskier would you and Eskel be able to fetch it?" Her hand left his hair and he whined at the loss, it went with the other in her exploration of his flesh but the feeling was too soft, too shy.  
"More. Malo want more. No need to be gentle. Witchers don't blush." Fuck he was selfish and shameless.  
"Eskel and I?" The other omega had been off in the corner, likely fighting his deep urge to reach out and try to soothe and scent all the misery and blood out of the room. "Malo I know I appear more svelte than strong by comparison to our company but I am more than capable-"  
"I have a sneaking suspicion I will have to get dirty in order to get Lambert clean." She looked nervous, uncomfortable, she smelled scared, her fingers felt skiddish.  
_'Knew it. Fucking knew it.'_ He had made a mistake, had been weak and asked for her and in mere seconds had hurt her, had her doubting him. But she was used to hurt and would help despite it. _'Stuck with me all winter.'_ This would be it though, she wouldn't go with them to Lettenhove, he wouldn't be able to convince her to . . . She would run. Yet for the moment she was slow and all but still, he could have this moment and when next winter came and he suffered through it alone he could keep the image of this mistake in his head.  
"Harder Malo." He wanted the image to be strong, firm and decently filthy.  
"You haven't seen them Jaskier." Malo's confidence wavered for a moment. Her hands held at Lambert's hips, it wasn’t like holding hands or close to a hug but even Lambert's heat rattled head felt it for what it was, an embrace.  
"Seen what?" Jaskier was still a bit confused.  
"My scars. I . . . Would . . ."  
"Come on bard." Eskel nodded at the door. Malo was as smart as she was scared, she still had a fear of omegas and undressing in front of one still was something that gave her concern. She didn't want to be gawked at, she was asking Eskel to fill the bard in so that when they returned she wouldn't crawl out of her skin under his eyes, under any questions.

"Sit down with me Lambert?" Once bare she sat crossed legged on the floor, red wrongly but Lambert didn't notice that, all he saw was flesh, skin he needed against his.  
"Don't want to . . ." Not that he had much choice in the matter, in the moment he was being held standing by his arms, still held firmly behind his back by Geralt.  
"Tell me what you want Berty." Would her eyes be this sad the whole time? Geralt had sat down, consequently so had Lambert, squirming, he felt he might shoot to the ceiling under all this building pressure.  
"Someone to fuck me." His voice was dark, pressed and demanding. He didn't want anymore, needed, he needed. He watched her face settle, would it get stuck that way? Would she stay sad?  
"I'm new to this Berty." He atleast got that hold back, sharp fingers pulling his face close to hers, those sad eyes searching him. "Does Geralt normally fuck you during your heats?"  
"Yes." When he stopped wanting and was just needing, when his pride broke and he allowed himself to ask, Geralt had always been there, gave him what he needed.  
"So you have an established agreement?"  
"YES." Geralt growled, he wasn't a monster, he was an alpha, a protector, a brother.  
"I've told you Berty." She laid a kiss at his cheek. "I may be a helpless human." Then down his neck, her lips nearly kicked up by his thumping pulse. "But I am not here to wreck homes." She kissed his shoulder.  
"You're _here_ because you're stuck." Lambert didn’t really get where this was going. "Can be stuck _in_ me." Not subtle when he had his wits. "Can someone just fuck me already?" He tossed his head back, jutted his hips sending his throbbing cock up like a flare. Certainly not subtle without them.  
"Geralt will fuck you." Malo's hold in his hair grew more firm as she kissed him on the lips, sending her tongue into his mouth.  
_'Fuck.'_ He needed that, needed her to take away the pressure of finding a response to that. Whatever reply he would have had surely would've been a mistake. He felt stress leave him as he ran after her tongue with his own, chasing after happy sighs, he needed desperately but he _wanted_ her happy, he was back to wanting and it hurt far less this time.  
"Until then Berty. Can I have you till then? Let me be selfish?" She pulled back again and Lambert whined.  
"Will you fucking touch me?" He didn't want to be teased, toyed with.  
"All over." She promised, running her scent along his core, every abdominal muscle grew taut. "Can I?"  
"Yes." He hissed and in agreeing he felt her cool hand at his cock, his whole body jerked and muscles that he had been brutal with ached.  
"SLOW." He snarled at that outlandish request.  
"On fucking fire Malo can't be slow." He continued thrusting into her palm.

"On fire? Well you're in luck." Jaskier returned with what appeared to be everything but the fucking bath basin in his arms.  
"Hands are full." A far less jovial voice followed.  
"Oh!" After placing down the supplies Jaskier did open the door and there was Eskel with the full fucking bath basin.  
"Well that's . . . Your ilk does everything a bit more don't they?" Malo laughed, her eyes were still sad but she laughed, when had anyone been able to laugh during one of Lambert's heats. "Care for you an awful lot Berty. Thank you." She smiled at his brother, at the bard, was able to do what he was incapable of, thanked them straightforward not snide or snarled. Jaskier was grinning wildly, Eskel's face seemed less stone, more soft.  
"Malo?" Lambert growled. That was great, fucking fantastic but all this gratitude, smiles and laughter took away Malo's focus, and even when she turned back around she wasn't looking at him, she was looking past him at Geralt, he wanted it back. "Malo?!" Her hand hadn't stopped, she was still giving him what he needed, another climax was quickly coming. "Me . . . Want . . ."  
"I'll give you what you need Lambert." Her eyes did come back to him which was better but her eyes were still fucking sad.  
"Stop-" In a snap she stilled entirely. "Not that!" His eyes blew wide, they both laughed that time and thankfully her hand resumed, with a lovely fever, he couldn’t slow so she sped to keep pace and he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he came again.

"Alright let's get you cleaned up Lambert." Hands were gone and that wouldn't do.  
"No." He wanted her hands and he wanted her to stop looking so fucking sad. Geralt was lifting him, moving him. "No." He was placed into the basin and then Geralt let go of him, no one was touching him, the sloshing of water around him was not a comforting feeling, he felt like he was drifting, drowning, alone. "No." His hands grabbed out to the basin's edge for some sense of stability. He was hurting again, hurting because he wanted and couldn't get his fucking brain to word it. Then he jumped, snarled, all teeth when something stung.  
"Ok Berty?" It had been Malo, a damp cloth going cross his broken knuckles.  
"Why . . . Yes." He nodded eagerly, even though it stung it meant she was still here, hadn't run yet. "Fucking tease." His eyes clamped shut after the words that still held plenty of snarl. Not yet but Lambert _was_ an asshole he'd push her too far sooner rather than later. "Naked . . . Not doing nothing bout it." She wasn't going to fuck him, barely touching him. Why was she fucking nude? "In . . . Get closer?" He didn't want her dressed he just wanted more not less of her. "What I want."  
"Happy to Berty." Happy, he wanted her to be happy with him, _needed_ her to get her hand back on his cock but he _wanted_ her happy. She slid in gracefully, she didn't crowd the bath, a twiggy thing but she grounded him, ground _into_ him and Lambert growled at this far more satisfying contact. He still was empty and his heat was aching for him to be filled, that's what he _needed_ but he felt in control for the moment and he wanted, wanted her happy wanted to fuck her pleased. Fast, before need could swallow want he was in her, the sloshing wasn't so bad anymore, not when the water smelled of mint and lemon a fucking relaxing steeped tea. He could focus on that, on making her happy, he couldn’t control much of anything, not even his own fucking blood, he _could_ control that. She trusted him, let him touch her in a pleasing way and no one else was allowed that, could control that. He burried his face in between her shoulder blades hoping not to be asked to slow, he couldn’t, only more, only deeper, happier. "Berty!" She didn't ask him for that, only encouraging more movement yet still holding him in place. Her hand reached back blindly and at first Lambert opened his mouth expecting fingers to prod at him but he was left gapped and gasping. Her fingers instead went to his brow and he vaugely registered a sting. 'The fuck?' His eyes opened and looking at his fingers he saw they were bandaged. What a fucking multitasker. She was patching him as he pounded into her. She was smart as shit. He didn't want coddling, at his best he bristled from care. She was giving him what he wanted so she could do what was needed. "Ha . . . Happy Malo?" The alpha in her drove her to do this. She would run come spring, thinking all he wanted was that biology they couldn't fix. but was this atleast fun for her? Was she happy? She looked red and small and- "Me." Her turned her waist to face him, she was embarrassed, scared, he could see her eyes shoot down, maybe afraid of catching Jaskier in a side glance, maybe afraid that this was all an elaborate trap, that someone would hurt her, touch her without permission.  
"Feels fantastic Berty." Her breath was fast and he couldn't tell if that was lust or anxiety.  
"Ain't the same." Her hooked his arm round the back of her neck pulling her into his chest. "Fucking selfish remember?" Being pressed so close was a worse angle for getting well and deep but he wanted her happy, was slowing for her.  
"Huh?"  
"Ain't sharing you. No one will touch you. Won't anybody hurt you but me." Cause he hadn't let himself off the hook yet, he had hurt her.  
"Lambert you didn't-" He was angry enough he didn't feel like arguing, he took her chin in a newly bandaged hand and pushed it up.  
"Keep looking at me? What I want." Even if her eyes were sad, he wanted her to look at him, see him because even though she had all those fickle and fast human emotions she still always saw him, through it all she really saw him.  
"Course Berty." She kissed him and this time they were . . . Even. It wasn't slow or soft but it wasn't crushing either it was focused and chaotic and . . . When he felt her hand dip down to cup at his ass he didn't feel panic or dread he felt fucking wanted and it was wonderful. It wasn't long till half the water was outside the basin and Lambert emptied himself just as deftly. This hurt less, he hurt less, it was still heat and he still ached all over but it was more uncomfortable than unbearable, which by witcher standards was half way decadent. "I loved it Berty. Made me happy." She smiled. All his favorite words from her all at once, only way it could have been better was if it was a loud laugh.  
"Love you Malo." He hadn't thought her eyes could have gotten any dimmer, he was wrong, they were so . . . Sucked of life. He was draining her will to live one word at a time. He helped her out of the bath and lingered in the cooling water for a moment. Thought about why he was doing this, he knew that word was hurting her. "Sorry." Did he love her? Probably not, it took Geralt years to love Jaskier, Lambert had known Malo for months. Then why? Was he just saying it because he could? Was she hurt because she knew he didn't or because she though he might and that's not what she wanted.  
"You'll prune up like that Berty." She pushed past the awkwardness filling the room.  
"I-" He got out of the basin slowly, keeping his distance from her. Keeping his fucking mouth shut. He watched as she began to dress. _'Going?'_ Lambert growled, he was in pain, his body was twisting, he needed to be filled, he didn't have time for her feelings. Somewhere in the boil of is brain he almost formed a play on words, something about coming and not going. Then she was gone without a word and smelling of nothing but salted water and his spend.

He wasn't a wolf, for a moment he was a viper, his chin led him, brought him down to the floor and the one time he needed an Alpha to take and not ask the room was silent. He worked himself for a few minutes, eyes clenched shut willing the thought that he had an audience out of his mind. It wasn't enough, not anymore, he needed more. "Something . . ." His eyes scanned the floor he'd surely tossed that wooden knot somewhere. "Geralt . . ." Malo had just patched him up but it was taking all his strength not to smash his skull down into the floor again. It hurt to want, to need, to be.  
"If you're ready Lambert." Geralt sounded unsure again, the whole mood of the room had changed after Lambert had uttered those words.  
"He has to eat something first. Hasn't had food in hours." Malo and her bread pudding were back.  
"I don't want fucking food." Lambert hissed from his place on the floor.  
"What do you want." She sat in front of him and her face . . . Wasn't so fucking dim anymore, still there deep in her eyes but she had shoved it far and away.  
"What the fuck do you think?" She said she wouldn't make him beg. Had she changed her mind? Wanted to be cruel because his words had hurt her. Then her fingers were at his jaw, squeezing slightly. "Open?" Was she going to spoon feed him? He had day dreamed about that earlier but they were far and beyond that.  
"I'm not a fuck-" it clipped at his teeth at first but beyond that it slid so nicely in, filled well, she had found the wood he had been looking for, from the taste of it she might've even had the hygiene to clean it off.  
_'Stupid slick Malo doesn't need to be polished to go in.'_ Were words he tried to make. "Sssm dnnn pggg." Is what he said as it slid in and almost out of his mouth, her fingers at his jaw never releasing.  
"A good look on you Lambert. Makes me happy." Her words were very casual almost observational yet she did sound genuinely pleased and maybe that's what had his brain settle, that and the decent pressure on his touunge, firm hold at his jaw. "Will stop if you want." She pulled it all the way out, leaving his mouth in some sorry half open state.  
"It'll . . ." It was going inside him, that wasn't a fucking question. "You'll do it?" The thought of her going sharp but slow did sounds dozens of times better than whatever rushed slamming he intended to put himself through.  
"If you want." She nodded. Lambert side glanced the wooden cock still in her hand.  
"Makes you happy?" He opened his mouth, he wouldn't ask for it, he wanted them to speed up the pace he wanted to be filled already but he wanted her happy, it was the one thing in this swirling room he felt like he had control of.  
"Does." Her hand left his cheek and rooted in his hair, grabbed nice and tight, she didn't think he was soft or breakable, pulling him up a bit higher. "Indulge me just a minute more?" It didn't slide into Lambert so much as _he_ crashed into _it_. Sixty seconds, he could show off for sixty seconds. His eyes held on her as he bobbed, breath be fucked, unrepentant of any drool leaking out. He grunted at some point and he saw the smile in the corner of her eyes and for sixty seconds he didn't feel like a fucking mistake, he felt like he was doing everything right. There was a cough and half a moan as she pulled it away from him. His mouth didn't get time to close proper as she leaned in and kissed him, it was wet and properly filthy and over too soon, she was moving. "Like a cat?" She was straddling his hips from behind.  
"Yeah. Like a fucking cat Malo." His spine arched as a feline would, he needed it, the need hurt the want just made it barable.

It was like her fingers but better, slow and fucking searching, she wasn't shyly teasing round his rim, it lurched past slick and nestled deep inside of him. "Ok?"  
"Fucking move Malo." It was in but he wasn't a wine bottle needing corking he was an omega that had to be fucked.  
"Do something for me?" It wasn't a barter, she was already moving, already sliding it with purpose, watching his shoulders flinch and fold as she found wonderful spots inside him.  
"Fuck Malo?" What did she need him to do? Fucking nothing scept lie there and take it, he was, he was bucking back despite her small hand at the base of his spine assuring him there was no need. "What you want?" It was a high sort of whine as he got that hazy vision going again.  
"You to eat that bread pudding I slaved over?" Still slower than Lambert could ever hope to be but she was picking up the pace and Lambert was squirming.  
"Now?" He eyed the bowl in front of him.  
"You got two working arms don't you? I know your mouth works just fine." The palm on his back trailed all the way up his spine till it held between his shoulder blades, gave her the leverage to go deeper. He didn't feel pinned, just lazy for it. "If you really don't want to that's fine Berty." She still sounded observational but less pleased not disappointed just less amused.  
"Would it make you fucking happy Malo?" He tried to sound annoyed but he was genuinely curious.  
"Yes." He'd already throated a wooden dick in front of his brothers and no one had said shit, how more ridiculous could he look stuffing his face while being stuffed from behind. He pulled the bowl closer and spooned it angrily into his face. "The fuck?!" He groaned over a gulp.  
"What? Something wrong?" She slowed, even for her.  
"Don't-" He rocked his hips back, he was close if she took that away from him he would murder someone. "It's dif-" He shuddered this time as a wave of release hit him, his dick was shooting out steam by this point but fuck if he didn’t feel warm, and having something to swallow as he rode through the orgasm had that warmth running from base to tip. She didn't stop and Lambert almost felt so fucking relieved he could sob, it felt better there was no crash only continue. "R . . Run out of mint Marshmalo?" He was riding a good high they could talk about what made her happy, this stupid fucking bread pudding he'd almost finished.  
"Berty I _am_ mint." Fuck if that wasn't true, it was still under that wet leave smell but mint was kicking up and that was his doing.  
"In the . . . The fucking pudding."  
"Oh." Did she know she was plugging a witcher in an armory? She certainly wasn't speaking like it. "Eskel said it smelled kind of funny, likely means it tastes sort of funny. I'm not trying to poison you Berty I-"  
"Heats . . . Are sort of funny." He had emptied the bowl, let it clank ceremoniously on the floor, he heard her chuckle and his body went lax with it. _'Happy.'_  
"No. They . . . So do you want the mint or not?"  
"Not always. Just . . . For the rest of it." The mix was fucking odd and with a sounder mind probably unpleasant but if that wasn't heat in a pudding he didn't know what was.  
"Alright." It was almost gentle, he was so warm and relaxed this release didn't quake him it simply bubbled under his skin, from the tip of his toes just groaned out his teeth. This time she did stop. He was empty, she was off of him. Had he made a mistake? His head craned to look at her, she didn't seem upset.

"Need . . ." He didn't want a break, didn't need a break, couldn't stand this break in contact.  
"I know you do. Geralt will help you with that. You're washed, warmed and well . . . Just well Berty. It won't hurt as much I hope." She smiled at him warmly but she was standing, farther, she was leaving.  
"Won't stay?"  
"I . . . Can." She was in some far off corner.  
"Write to me sometime?" Lambert snorted as he sat up, heats were not about distance.  
"LAMBERT LAY OFF." Geralt finally spoke up and it almost sounded like he was taking Malo's side.  
"What?" He had, something he'd done clearly was a mistake. He watched as Eskel walked over to her, offered his hand and Malo took it. He came up behind her, she flinched when his chin rested on her shoulder and he froze for a good seven minutes, patient, Eskel was patient . . . He was comforting her. Why? What the fuck did Lambert do?  
"I can bring down some bedding. Geralt's knees are not what they used to be Lambert." Jaskier offered.  
"Someone tell me the fuck is going on?" The bard was leaving, everyone seemed so far away. What had he done?  
"Berty you're fine." She must've noticed the swelling breaths he was taking in.  
"I'm going to fuck you." Geralt sounded sure atleast, there was some blessing in that. Geralt started undressing and then something interesting happened, Lambert wasn't the only one taking unseemly large breaths.  
"Marshmalo?"  
"You're fine." Eskel was soothing, waiting another age for her to settle as his arm went around her waist.  
"What's . . . The fuck's wrong Malo?" Lambert stood which was honestly impressive seeing as he had no bones in his legs. "Eskel get the fuck off of her!" No one would touch her if she didn't want it. Sure Eskel only had the best of intentions but Lambert had fucking promised.  
"I will be alright Berty. Ignore me." Ignore her? How in the fuck was he supposed to do that? He started making drunken steps towards the pair, he didn't need pants or his fucking dignity to _make_ Eskel let her go. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, Geralt. Would he need to fight both of them? This was more like heats of old.  
"What?!" He wrenched out of the hold and stumbled, legs angeling awkward not to fall outright.  
"She will . . . Have a hard time being here. Me and you . . . Not her. She wants you to have what you need, and she knows your not hers but . . . Her hormones might disagree." Which all made sense, Malo was an alpha, they'd been scenting each other touch and go all winter. Her brain thought he was hers and seeing, smelling, knowing another Alpha was trying, useless or otherwise, to breed with him, it was only a matter of what primal urge took her first, to fuck Lambert or kill Geralt.  
"I'll live." Malo already sounded a bit agitated. "I won't leave Berty. Eskel will make sure I don't pull anything." Even her laugh was strained.  
"Think . . . A plant fell. Eskel you should take her to go check on it." She had done all this to make his discomfort as low as possible. He was in control of making her happy and she wouldn't be happy with this, a day of this.  
"Can take the twist. I'm fine, won't leave you." Malo set her face something serious, she was uncomfortable but she had expected as such, did not like it being implied she couldn't endure it. "I told you, this is-"  
"For me. Last thing I need are your judgy fucking eyes ruining my mood." They weren't judgy they were dim as shit, determined to hold up her end, to be whatever he needed but dim and depressing as shit, not happy.  
"Come on. Geralt will-" It made something in Lambert's chest jump a bit, hearing her snarl, then simmer as Eskel started to walk them to the door. He liked her wanting him primally, he shouldn't, he didn't want to be claimed, yet he liked that he stirred that urge in her, made him feel less alone, made him feel wanted.

"Where are you two going?" Jaskier furs in hands opened the door. "Absolutely nowhere! Malo you have to stay, you and Lambert have been doing-"  
"And now it's time for Geralt to do what I can't for Lambert." Malo sounded angry.  
"Oh." Jaskier quirked his head at Geralt, then smiled something wicked. "As I've stated time and time again this is nothing a-"  
"Jaskier call it team building all you like, orgies solve nothing." Geralt sighed, he was now standing just as naked as Lambert and while more put together somehow seemed more uncomfortable.  
"It _can_ solve this!" Jaskier slid by Eskel and right up to his mate pressing the furs into his chest. "Just like mine!"  
"His heat isn't like yours." Geralt sighed again, heavier, sadder. He took the furs and spread them out on stone.  
"Wasn't. It wasn't. This is . . . This time is different! Right Lambert?" Jaskier looked so hopeful but Lambert's head had been cooking in the mere moments he had gone empty. He had cared for as long as he could, he didn't care anymore, not about anything.  
"Now." Lambert was on hands and knees his head dipping low as he felt himself crumbling under the flames. "Geralt?!"  
"Right." Lambert growled as he felt Geralt's palms on his hips, too gentle, like he was soft, because he was weak, he finally asked because he was weak.  
"What if . . . It was a Lambert sandwich?" Jaskier was not giving up. Why? What did it matter? Maybe he felt he was owed a say seeing as it was his alpha's dick Lambert was going to ride his heat on. "Malo under Lambert, the cute couple being-"  
"I . . ." Malo's breath grew panicked as she wrapped her mind around the bard's plan. Lambert didn’t care, couldn't care he just needed.  
"Geralt I'll rip your dick off if you don't hide it somewhere!" That was finally enough teeth to stop the tease, Geralt did finally enter him. It did the job, made the churning of his insides dull under the thrusts. "Fuck." He was burning up, sweating as he slammed backwards, he didn't care, couldn't care. To care he would have had to of noticed Eskel and Malo leaving, he _didn't_ , Lambert's brain had one purpose, keep his hips moving and he did, fast, brutal angry, he was punching grunts of pain and pleasure out of himself and his brother but he didn't care couldn't, not for hours.

He woke up pinned and in pain, he thrashed at the near dead weight above him. "LAMBERT IT'S ME!" Geralt's had his hand at his neck holding him down and Lambert finally cared just a bit.  
"Fuck!" Every muscle ached in some over extended way. "Why'd . . . Need . . ." His head was coming back but his hips came back first, sore joints rubbing raw with nothing but desperation. Another noise caught Lambert's attention, a familiar snarl. His neck was even sore, hurt to lift it, hurt to look but there she was. "Staid?" His voice was a dry fucking rasp.  
"If you're going to show off Berty I'm going to watch, no matter how many plants fall." Malo was held in the corner, wiggling away and then into Eskel.  
"Fuck." He didn't like being overuled but he . . . Was an asshole that knew she had probably hated every second of this but was selfish for that crooked horny smile she held for him.  
"Now Lambert I have a proposition for you." Jaskier still hadn't given up.  
"An orgy?" Lambert's head fell again, too tired to hold it up _and_ move his hips, heat finding the latter more important. "Problem with your plan Dandelion." Gods his dick felt like one giant bruise, he winced more than he groaned as he tried to cum again.  
"Which is what? It would make it better for you and Malo. Somewhere to put what's aching and Malo will have you close it'll make this more-"  
"Not on her back."  
"What?" Jaskier could barely hear the mumble and even so had no context for it.  
"Malo doesn't have sex on her back."  
"Lambert I . . . Can . . . I've- " Malo's eyes were scared, angry, horny, sad, every emotion but happy, he wanted again, barely had the energy but he wanted.  
"Don't want that." What was worse than one monster? Two. He could almost picture it from her angle, her helpless on her back, a frothing omega atop her and above _him_ an alpha slamming both their weights into her. "Standing?" Lambert was a fucking genius. Sexed stupid and he still had the best fucking ideas. "Don't even got to look at our mugs Marshmalo you can-" He saw some of that scared sad look leave her and he felt empowered, back in control. "Can still . . . Will make you happy Marshmalo. Fucking promise." He'd concentrate every free brain cell he had on remembering how to make her moan. "I won't hurt you." He was begging for it but it sounded . . . Less pitiful than he imagined. "Can . . . Can say-" She could say no, she had already done plenty.  
" _Can_ you stand?" It was concern masked with sarcasm and Lambert batted it right back.  
"Can I fucking stand?" Actually that was a valid question, his legs were a bit shaky but he was fast, his mouth had moved faster than his mind again.  
"He can." Geralt stated it with confidence, confidence in Lambert, Geralt almost sounded happy. It was ill gained confidence, it was mostly the white wolf who had them on their feet, Lambert had _some_ care restored not enough to think on that.

Eskel turned her around and gave her a bigger, well engulfing hug, humming something satisfied. It was Lambert's turn to snarl and stiffle. "I'm going to sleep some. Wake me if you need-" Eskel was scratching at his face knowing what he had to offer was not on high demand.  
"Eskel-" Lambert knew heats were hard in a different way to his brother. He really wanted to say something encouraging, kind, appreciative. "If Malo won't I'll fucking spoon with you days straight when I'm done." That was close right?  
"Maybe both." Malo nodded as she began to undress.  
"Maybe both." Eskel yawned . . . Happily as he let his legs cross over one another, his head tilt back towards the wall.

She was bare again, he saw her scars again. How many of them came from an angry omega during heat. He growled, vauge thoughts of explosions went through his head. "Good angry." He knew he didn't look half sane, he didn't want her scared. She wasn't she was smiling as she neared them.  
"Mug or no mug Berty?" He had missed it, groaned for it, that hand nested tight in his hair. It would be an easier angle from behind but he'd been all about hard angels since the beginning, he wanted her to look at him, see him. Though she'd see Geralt too, he wanted all of her attention not half.  
"Mug." Gods she was getting so much better at kissing, he was some teacher. "Dandelion do you think you could keep Geralt's face busy?"  
"An orgy I said. Not a threesome." The jest cut some of the awkwardness out of the way they all sort of fell into some wet sorry mess. Lambert was a lazy asshole, he had his hands under Malo's thighs, while the initial lift was his strength, she staid there a mix of her arms round his neck and him sinking deeper, leaning almost entirely against Geralt. Gods gift to omegas didn't mind from what Lambert could tell. He could hear Geralt's hungry grumbles find harmony with Jaskier's pleased giggles, one of Geralt's hands had drifted from Lambert and he had a suspicion it had found familiar pastures. This wasn't an orgy this was two couples litteraly held together by Lambert's wonderful hips. Everything hurt, fuck his eyebrows burned overused but Lambert felt . . . Home, felt safe, felt wanted, felt right.

He was too selfish took too much. Hours at this warm full and found feeling had him feeling too good, he'd almost made it he was almost done. He was blissed and he was blabbering, too fast, speaking before thinking. As he watched her eyes come back from up her sockets he spoke. "Happy Marshmalo?" He'd asked her that like clock work, once he was close, once release was close he'd have her tip him over with a few words.  
"Happy!" It was a loud fucking sigh and he loved it.  
"Fucking love it?" The same follow up question. He wanted her to love it. ' _Love me.'_ His garbled mind was taking them two in the same. He licked a long sloppy trail up her throat, over where a mark would go. _'Mine.'_ Lambert was gone, he still cared, his heat was dropping but it had burned through him, only nerve endings and endorphins weren't fucked out of him.  
"Love it." Loved _him_.  
"No one bit you where it matters huh?" That was a new addition to their banter, he ran fingers at her pulse.  
"No." She sounded tired, but they were all tired, they'd all been at this for days.  
"Someone can. _I_ can. Want me to Marshmalo? Want to? Can, got a fresh patch." He cocked his neck at her, offering himself to be claimed.  
"Don't." More than tired, desperately fucking tired.  
"Don't want to Marshmalo?" He was impatient, crushing kisses at her throat to spur it along, to convince her he was worth wanting. "Don't want me? Want to stay with me? Could be a pair Marshmalo, a messy-" Lambert had been broken down, he was cracking open, exposing what was kept guarded, his body was growing numb all over.  
"LAMBERT!" Geralt was tired too he caught these words a bit late.  
"Did it all Marshmalo. Took such fucking care of me. What I want. Want to be yours. Want you to take care of me. Will-" she had said it right? Loved it, loved him, he wanted to be loved. "Let me?" His teeth were right fucking there and it all happened so fucking fast.  
"Don't, please. Not like-" Lamberts teeth closed hard over air, he had heard those words, the ones too close too her nightmares, the ones that had a fear similar to his mother's and had let go of her, problem with that was Malo fell flat on her back, eyes looking up at him. Hurt, he hurt her. Scared, she was scared of him.  
"Malo . . . Take a break maybe?" Jaskier spoke quietly. "Lambert needs some-"  
"Berty I-"  
"Go." Lambert spoke past teeth he didn't chance reopening. He didn't say anything as she collected her clothes, scrambled out of the room. She felt embarrassed, he left her in every emotion but happy.  
"Lambert-" Gerlat started.  
"Back on the floor." He demanded. Like a dog, like a beast, like a monster.  
"Lambert take a br-"  
"Took enough. Just keep at it or leave!" His brother did not leave, he did keep at it until Lambert no longer could keep his muscles moving. "Keep going." Lambert was in pain, his voice was raw, his skin, his soul all was stinging at any draft.  
"No. It's over Lambert. Stop." Geralt was pulling out.  
"Not it ain't . . . Still . . . Still this way . . . Still-" Lamberted swatted at Geralt's thigh because he didn't have strength or coordination to grab. If it was over that meant he had to deal with his mistakes, the damage he caused.  
"Lambert believe me. You're done, it's over. Rest."  
"Fucking quiter, go on . . . Go just fucking-" Lambert felt absolutely empty, inside and out.  
"Lambert let me-"  
"If you're not going to fuck me go! Don't need you anymore. What? So Vesemir can tell me I fucked up again? Was such a bad omega? Broken little . . . The fuck are you old man? Why don't you finish it off then huh?! All talk no show Vesemir!" This truly was the death throw of Lambert's heat, when he started calling out for the eldest wolf. "Vesemir?! Tell me I fucked up again! Vesemir?!" It was always the same.  
"Pup do you not understand the purpose of a heat?" Or "Feel good about yourself pup? We're here to help and you won't let us?" One year he'd banned any witcher from fucking him, left him to go mad by himself. The best reaction he'd gotten was "More ride less riot this year." On more mellow winters which were distant memories.

"Tell me Vesemir, Tell me I fucked up." Lambert had been unconsciousness for some undetermined length of time, he was no longer in the armory, far too warm, far too soft, he was in his room, his nest.  
"You fucked up pup." Lambert knew whose lap his face was in. "Only on the last leg though. Trouble with you sprinters, trip over your own feet." It wasn’t sharp like Malo but Vesemir didn’t play with anything, especially not hair of failures, Lambert had no energy to roll away from it.  
"Monster." Lambert snorted. "Mistake. Tell me. Say it." He knew that Vesemir likely didn't find it fair that Lambert only welcomed him close when he wanted cruel words but Vesemir hadn't given a shit about Lambert's comfort when he was a child, there was no kindness no closeness outside of blades and beatings. Why should Lambert ask or offer anything now?  
"Pup I've read every bestiary and I've never seen an artists rendition of such a fright."  
"Went to bite her, like her monsters. Wanted to." Over and over again from beginning to end, it was who he was, a fucking mistake, a monster.  
"Didn't. If I had graded you on what you wanted to do but never followed through on you'd be my star pupil Lambert. Drink." The tea Vesemir was tipping into his mouth was cold and grainy with honey but Lambert swallowed.  
"Hurt her . . . Marsh . . . Malo. Kept thinking . . . Wanting her to love me." Lambert coughed, only a monster would do that. "Said I'd love her. Can't."  
"That was a mistake, asking for love during heat always is. A heat is just that, nothing else, nothing to speak of or hold on. Thing about mistakes, you learn from them."  
"Shut the fuck up." Lambert would roll his eyes when he had the energy. "Malo won't be here next winter."  
"Likely not. There was nothing she did that we cannot-"  
"She made me slow down. Made . . . It was for me."  
"It is always for-"  
"They way Geralt makes it for Dandelion, different, fucking weird. She made it a mess for me. Looked at me . . . Right." Lambert smiled then winced, he had it and lost it because he was too selfish, moved too fast.  
" _Do_ you love her?"  
"No." Lambert wasn't even sure he could love someone, anyone, he hadn't loved anyone since . . . Maybe his own mother? Did he love his brothers? The bard? He wasn't sure, he didn't understand love.  
"Test out the words pup. If it doesn't feel right don't worry you won't remember it in the morning."  
"Won't?"  
"No. Every year you ask for me. Every year I come and you remember me telling you it wasn't how a heat should be don't you?"  
"First fucking thing out of your mouth." Lambert felt himself being moved, Vesemir shifting himself till the old man was hugging him from behind.  
"To get it out of the way. Spend the rest of the time telling you that's alright." A blanket was pulled over him. "Even though your heats are horrific Lambert we want to be there for you. Are so proud when you get through it. We know you struggle, we all struggle, we all love you Lambert."  
"Shut the fuck up." The wasn't the Vesemir Lambert knew, this was a joke a trick, or something the old wolf thought he had to do to keep the pup from crying. Vesemir had never been proud of Lambert, not a single moment in his life.  
"Just give it a go."  
"Think I love-" it did twist terribly at his tongue. "Love home atleast. Know that." He could admit to that, felt generic and safe. He pushed himself near to death, year after just to get back here, it wasn’t for glory, he hardly got paid, it was so he could come home, deserve a spot at home.  
"Your home loves you back." Vesemir gave an equally generic answer.  
"Malo's home . . . 'S empty."  
"And that bothers you."  
"Yeah."  
"Something to sleep on pup."  
"Said I won't remember."  
"You won't. Never remember this part." Vesemir might've sounded sad but Lambert was for the first time in days falling asleep not simply losing consciousness. "I like to think even if your head doesn't remember . . . You do. That it's part of the reason you come home pup. I . . . Lambert-"  
"I-" What would shut this man up, let him sleep. "Love you alright. Let me sleep. Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is choppy as anything but any which way I wrote came out that way, didn't want to be stuck here forever.


	12. Can't stay here

He woke up with arms around him, heavy arms, Vesemir's arms. "The fuck off of me!" Lambert scrambled up to his feet.  
"Back are we?" Vesemir did sound a bit sad Lambert heard it, he almost fucking cared, nearly asked why but then he was busy finding pants and by the time he turned back around the old wolf was hogging up the center of his nest snoring in the way something old as dirt would. _'They staid?'_ Looking over beyond the old witcher he saw Geralt and Jaskier curled into each other, sleeping. They never staid, Geralt sometimes would avoid him the rest of the winter depending on how bad Lambert hurt him or hurt himself likely trying to save them both the guilt. Yet this year was different, his heat had been different, warmer, closer, better. _'Where'd . . .'_ He tried to piece together his hazy heat memory. _'Malo ain't here cause-'_ His jaw clenched over traitorous teeth. How many times had he asked to mark her? Any amount was too many. He didn't even put on shoes as he left his room, just staring at her door for an undetermined amount of time. She wasn't in there but he just stared at it. _'Her room.'_ For some reason that thought sunk deep into his head, it was a weight in his brain. His ears perked at the sound of laughter, Malo's laughter. "Fuck this." It was his fucking home, he wasn't going to duck around corners, he stated it as if he hadn't already tried that and had it blow up in his face.

Quiet steps, slow steps, down the stairs, just out of sight. Eskel was laying long a bench his head pillowed on Malo's lap, her fingers sheethed in gardening gloves were tracing shapes on his chest, the fucker was shuffling and squirming and Malo was finding it endlessly amusing. "You're ticklish?" He blinked a bit stupidly.  
"Lambert." All lightness and humor stopped, he fucking ruined it. Malo looked so . . . Upset to see him.  
"Yeah I'm ticklish so what?" Eskel hadn't moved his thick head, that was the only thing keeping Malo from running.  
"So . . . Fucking nothing." Lambert scratched the back of his head. "Can I . . ." Could he fix it? He wanted to fix it. Malo was stuck till . . . The end of the month at the earliest, he didn't want her to spend it fucking sad and mopey.  
"Join? Doubt you know how to tickle Lambert." Eskel's eyes weren't even open, just laying comfortably. He had earned that, he'd been kind and patient, hadn't been an asshole. "Did say both. You could hold Malo maybe?"  
"Won't-" He'd touched her far too much these past couple days, she was wearing somehow more clothes than he'd seen before. Was she wearing three pairs of socks? Though the more he thought about it Malo had initiated most of those touches, why would she set him up for failure like that? Test the willpower of an omega in heat, a selfish asshole, he couldn't have warned her any better than he had.  
"You don't have to Lambert I understand."  
"Understand?" He was approaching which was a bad idea but not all his ideas could be winners.  
"I . . . I'm sorry I let you down." He saw her shoulders slump.  
"The fuck did you just say?" He went through the motion of cleaning non existent wax out his ear because he knew she'd find it funny, knew that he'd get half a laugh.  
"Malo's been silently scolding herself for leaving you at the end of your heat, she sighs any louder she's going to lose a lung." Eskel sounded more relaxed than Lambert ever remembered hearing his voice.  
"I . . . Scared you away . . . Was a monster." His eyes held on those stupid layers of socks, because it was ridiculous, not because he felt ashamed, like he couldn't look her in the eyes.  
"You were in heat . . . Anything you did or said I should have . . . Been there for you. I . . . Your time to be selfish and I couldn't get over myself."  
"That what they tell you?" Lambert was even closer, right in front of her, he was squared like he was ready to strike something, because he fucking was. Eyes still on ankles but he wanted a fight, wanted to put down whatever had put Malo in such a cage. "Got it backw . . ." Why was the way he thought any more right? That alphas took and omegas gave? Cause he'd seen it, been taught that. Same probably went for Malo though. "It was a mess." He grunted, his head hurt, his muscles still ached he was vaugely hungry for solid food.  
"I . . . Thought . . . I could help . . . It'd be better. I didn't mean to-"  
" _Was_ better. Like a fucking good mess." He gave half a smirk not that anyone saw it, his chin still dug into his collar bone.  
"Love it." She gave a bit of a cold snort.  
"Fuck." That had hurt worse, she looked right and gutted when he had prattled on about love. "Shouldn't have said . . . That. Malo . . . I didn't mean . . . To . . ." His hand hovered over her neck but didn't touch. "Wanted to . . . But . . . Was the heat . . . Messing with my head." His fist clenched and he was a bit surprised that while Malo did flinch at the movement it didn't send her whole body rigid.  
"I know." She nodded. "I'm not mad at you B . . . Lambert." His brow furrowed, he wanted it back, wanted her back. She had told him to ignore her rule during his heat. He had touched her . . . Aggressively, angry, happy angry or not, maybe she had over estimated her comfort with him, underestimated what kind of asshole he could be when going after what he wanted.  
"I don't love you." He still didn't know why that hurt so much. Was it that the proclamations had been false? Or that they were uttered at all? He wanted to ask but they were both a bit raw, he wasn't sure either of them could take her honest answer.  
"I know." She smiled at him and his frown only grew. "I didn't think you did. You just wanted me to fuck you." Which was not untrue but it didn't mean he liked to hear it. So it was that . . . Did she want to be loved? By him? What if this was holding hands all over again, something that existed but wasn't . . . _For_ Lambert? Would he continue to hurt her?  
"I do . . ." He really fucking liked Malo, he wanted her. . . Around. Fuck there wasn't another human witcher or warlock he'd fucking post outside a door for, just for the company. Was that close to love? More importantly was it close enough? "Malo can I sit?"  
"Your home you fucking lump." She didn't move, she couldn't, Eskel's head was still in her lap but she had called him a lump, she only did that when teasing. That was a good sign.  
"Can I-" His eyes staid down, three different pairs of socks, her own weird fucking armor. She didn't want to be touched and that was more than fucking fair, she'd gone so far out if her comfort zone during his heat, she wanted her rule back and how. "Do you fucking . . ." He bunched his fists as he swallowed any manner of wrong words. "Fuck." His head wasn't garbled with heat, he was just so furious and alarmed and the smallest bit sad if he thought that was an emotion he registered, which he didn't. _'Want it back.'_ He wanted her hand in his hair, wanted to feel special feel . . . Not like a mistake but he'd fucked that up.  
"Eloquent Berty." His ears perked, his face lifted halfway out of it's scowl. She couldn't run till months end but she _could_ close off and hate him. There were cracks in her walls though, cracks an asshole like him could exploit.  
"Accept each others apologies already. There's always next winter assuming Lambert doesn't get killed." Eskel was fucking yawning like this conversation bored.  
"I . . . What she . . . You'll come back next winter?" Lambert was trying to catch up. How long had he slept?  
"Elk invited me . . . Assuming it's alright with everyone else. I was a bit of a surprise guest this year but perhaps-"  
"You can come back next winter." Eskel turned over onto his side, fit to actually sleep in Malo's lap.  
"Lambert?" She cared, despite the fact that he hurt her, she still cared about his rusted feelings of all things.  
"If anyone causes a stink about it-"  
"Lambert you can't stab your family for having an opinion on-"  
"Fuck says I can't?"  
"Fuck says he _hasn't_?" Eskel's hand reached back to where a small scar on his shoulder likely had faded. Malo probably shouldn't have laughed, it wasn’t funny, yet that didn't stop her. For the first time in ages her eyes lost all that cloudy dim which caused Lambert to have a revelation.  
"You stopped taking them." They hadn't burned through her system entirely, still some wet leave stench around her but more mint made it's way to his nose. " _Now?!_ "  
"I did. Are you . . ." She rolled her eyes. "I can't win with you Berty, angry when I take them, angry when I-"  
"No! That's fucking good Marshmalo, always good. Don't ever need to take em again if you don't want." He liked her, no part of her should be suppressed in any way. He'd explained that before right? Half a dozen times, he wasn't going to do it again.  
"I . . . So do you accept my apology Lambert? For leaving? Especially at the end I should have just-"  
"Even . . . Round abouts." He scratched the back of his neck. "Promise me something?"  
"Possibly." She was smart not agreeing till she got the details of it.  
"Real fucking important, specially seeing as your coming back next winter." Some part of that sentence didn't sit well with Lambert but his head moved a mile a minute he'd have to circle back later for any introspection.  
"The anticipation is killing me."  
"I fucking meant it Malo."  
"What?"  
"Don't want to hurt you. Want to . . . Make you forget them."  
"I won't _forget_ them Berty." She got tense, her whole body bracing for something terrible, her eyes fluttering as she seemed to remember every last one all at once. "Elk would you-"  
"Up." And Eskel was out of her lap shooting a mildly annoyed glance at Lambert.  
"Fuck." It almost sounded like sorry but Lambert was used to shoving down memories, forgetting things that weren't useful, how was he supposed to know that wasn't fucking normal or healthy? "If you come back next winter . . . Old rules can't fucking cut it."  
"What rules? There were rules? It was a heat Berty there are no-"  
"Warn me fucking first. Use your fucking words." It ran like sandpaper up his throat. "Please."  
"What?"  
"Leave the room . . . Go to the green house. . . Fucking shower Eskel with cuddles . . . I'll be . . . Angry." He knew he could be difficult to reason with outside of a heat, he was sure burning alive he wasn't much more amiable. "Won't hurt so bad." Wouldn't feel like losing, like he deserved to lose, like he should be hurt in turn. "You said . . ." She had been scared, scared of him, she had said **don't**. "Promised no one would hurt you here . . . Lied." His teeth would crack by winters end he was sure of it, maybe that was for the best. "I don't got a lot of shit . . . If you can't believe me-"  
"You didn't _lie_ Berty."  
"Bullshit."  
"You knew your heat would be . . . A lot, you warned me Berty. Said it would hurt, that it _always_ hurts. This time it . . . hurt _less?_ " Maybe she sounded hopeful.  
"No broken bones." He shrugged. "Hurt . . . Different." It physically hurt less, able to get what he needed with far less self injury Yet- "You looked at me like she did when . . ." Like his mother, someone being hurt, who felt like they had done or not done something to earn that hurt. "Don't want . . ." His fists were clenching, nails digging into his palm. "To be a monster to you, heat's no excuse."  
"Berty?" She craned forward trying to get his attention.  
"Yeah?"  
"Look but don't touch?" Lambert watched as she pushed her hair away from her neck, clear, not even a bruise, the light scrape he'd left before his heat had fully started wasn't even a red scratch in her skin. He let out the first breath in days that didn't have an undercurrent of agitation. "We survived Berty. Can't ask for much more than that." Lambert could though, he could ask for so much, he was fucking selfish.  
"You fuckers are missing the party." They could go back and forth on which one of them had fucked up more till they died but he had dwindling patience and Malo was smiling he wanted to ride that as long as possible.  
"What the festivities continue?" Eskel gave his brother a confused look, he too was aware of the distance the wolves kept from one another once Lambert's blood cooled.  
"Or is everyone napping in your fancy nest?" Malo was smart.  
"I'm popular as fuck. Come on." He had his hand out and only frowned slightly when she didn't take it. She had gloves on, she had been touching Eskel minutes ago. Either they were fine or they weren't he didn't understand.  
"I'll meet you two in there alright?" She was standing and smiling and she didn't look scared or angry Lambert was a bit at a loss.  
"What's up Marshmalo?" She didn't have to touch him he just wanted her to make sense again, he wanted to know what the rule was now. He wanted to know if he'd be allowed to touch her again. _'Still want her to be my mess.'_  
"I . . . Think . . . It was just a lot Berty . . . Lot of touching . . . It was good touches but still . . . Need to get my head in the right space is all." That didn't really clear up shit but it did sound like maybe he'd be able to touch her eventually. "Is that your stomach Lambert? Did you eat anything today?" She was still a bit of a nag but he liked that, wasn't coddling, almost care, mostly though, a nag.  
"No more pudding Malo." Or maybe it was just an escape she was looking for. _'Head in the right space.'_ He tried to infer anything out of that . . . Where was her head now? Still with the monsters? How did he get it back here with him. Heat Lambert was a monster but _he_ wasn't, that's where he had landed. He just had to show her, like she had bearing her neck, that they had made it out the other side.  
"You should probably . . . Bathe." Eskel added and Lambert gave himself a sniff, he smelled like . . . Everyone, smelled like home . He liked this smell, the first wiff atleast, on a second pass he realized it was home and then some. Home and slick . . . Home and spend, it was possible he needed to wash some of the home off of him.  
"Fucking fine. Go on up Eskel, glad everyone else is getting a great fucking use out of my room, my nest-"  
"Stop complaining you can kick us out when you want." Eskel gave a dismissive wave but that sentence rattled in Lambert's brain a bit. His home, his family, clinging to his fucking skin, snoring up his fucking nest, they had never wanted to be that close before, he'd always been the odd man out. Hadn't he? Now it was in his hands? How much of them he could tolerate? He watched Eskel disappear up the stairs.  
 _'Her room.'_ That thought was still for some reason clogged the base of his brain. _'Malo's home 's empty.'_ Had he said that? Thought it? When? "No . . ." He wanted to tell her not to run but he got that trapping her feeling again. "Won't be guarding the kitchen door." Is what he settled on.  
"If a dragon comes I'll yell." She smiled as she started making her way there.  
"For me?" Not for Eskel, not for any witcher with aim, he wanted her to feel safe with him, wanted to be the one to fix that highly improbable doomsday scenario.  
"Course. You're the fastest Berty." Which wasn't untrue but Lambert had gotten foolishly used to be not just fast and angry, he wanted that back. "Like you best." She clearly saw he was craving more praise.  
"Yeah?" He snorted. "Still?" He was a little less crass with that question.  
"For the foreseeable future Berty."  
"Fucking batty." He watched her wave goodbye as the door creaked shut and he waved back like a moron, getting a good look at his bandage hand. He gave that a sniff when he was done. "Maybe two baths."

It had been three baths before the water lost that filmy over current and he smelled less of spend slick and home. His body was still tender but it didn't bunch and ache from his stint as a contortionist. He felt normal again, reset. Walking upstairs to his room he didn't quite understand what he was looking at. "The fuck is this a picnic?" If he found a mouse in his nest because these slobs were eating bread and cheese while splaid out across his sheets he'd kill some one.  
"Yes." Jaskier stated cheerfully. "Come. Join!" He patted a spot next to him. Even this was new Jaskier always looked at Lambert half angry half heartbroken for days after his heat.  
"Where's-" Vesemir was gone but Lambert gave two shits about that. If food was here that meant Malo had to be done in the kitchen.  
"Your sweet little Marshmalo?" Lambert hated when Jaskier said it, absolutely hated it, sounded too sweet almost mocking, just not right.  
"I _will_ kick you out." He went a step crueler and snatched the food right out of Jaskier's hands, plowing it into his face, his shoulder bumping hard into the bard as he hit the floor.  
"Awww your back Ber-" Jaskier had his gangly arms all sorts of wrapped around him.  
"Dnt." Lambert grunted over a mouth full of food.  
"Not fair." But Jaskier didn't seem terribly off put, running his scent long Lambert's bulldozing shoulder. Lambert took the necessary steps of swallowing and breathing before speaking.  
"Malo?"  
"Brought lunch. Said she'd be back . . . Disappeared." Geralt was still laying out, it was doubtful his stamina hadn't returned, though the white wolf was allowed to be lazy too.  
"How . . . Was it?" Lambert remembered most of what happened but he hadn't been focused, nuance and compassion wasn't something he was well versed in to begin with, he needed an outside perspective.  
"Comparatively?" Geralt seemed to be thinking awful hard.  
"No metaphoricaly. Was it as awful as the winter . . . Four years back?" Lambert hoped he got the year right.  
"No." Geralt's face lost thought and got stormy and maybe trying to contort sad but couldn't.  
"You know it was better Lambert don't try to pretend that maybe even a small part of you didn't-" Jaskier always liked to press his luck.  
"I didn't." Lambert hissed. He would never _like_ heats. His theory on them held fast, curses meant to be bared and lifted. "You hurt?" Lambert threw an overly waxy piece of cheese at Geralt.  
"I'm . . ." Geralt was fine, he was always fine. Even when Lambert had hurt him, some years it was petty scratches and bruises, worse years it was blood. Four years back he'd punched Geralt so hard he broke an eye socket, even then the one eyed wolf had been fine. "Good." Well fuck what was this nonsense?  
"Good?"  
"Wasn't . . . _Great_." Geralt did save all his praise for his precious bard but that was fine, that was good, Lambert didn’t want to be Geralt's. "Should . . . Be careful with that mouth of yours."  
"I didn't bite her." Everyone had assured him that wanting to but not was fine.  
"Not that."  
"Then what the love junk? Yeah I fucking know Geralt . . . I wasn't thinking with that head. I get it cut me some-"  
"Love's bull-" Geralt caught himself or rather Jaskier caught him by the ear tugging something that looked painful. "You offered her a lot . . . She can shrug off wanting her to fuck you, even to claim you . . . Knows what a heat is." Geralt shrugged himself and left Lambert on quite the cliff.  
"The fuck else did I say?" It had mostly been bargening for filth, what could have been so bad that she couldn't separate it from his heat?  
"Lambert you didn't mean it . . . She knows-" Jaskier's hug suddenly was stifling, Lambert pushed him off.  
"The fuck. Did I say?"  
"When honey didn't work you went with vinegar." Eskel joined the shrug party.  
"The. Fuck." Chest widening breath. "Did. I. Say?" Were they not hearing him?  
"Asked why she would fuck them . . . All of them . . . But not you. Were so good at giving monsters what they-" Eskel had a great fucking memory and could likely recite every word uttered but Lambert didn't want to hear anymore. Picnic was over, he was out of the room, fucking pounding on Malo's door.

"Malo?" Pounding and pounding. "Malo I know you can hear me. Let me in." Big bad wolf just slamming his bandaged fist into the door. "Malo?" His head thumped into the wood. Why had she smiled? Why had she pretended everything was ok? This was not ok.  
"Doors open Lambert . . . No need to chop it down." She didn't sound upset she sounded distracted. He whipped open the door and she was on her mattress bouncing her bagged rain from elbow to elbow.  
"The fuck?!" Was not the best way to start this conversation but here they were.  
"Huh?"  
"Didn't mean it." He was on her and he was fuming. "Didn't fucking mean any of it. Malo you have to believe-" She didn't _have_ to, why _would_ she? Why would she want to hear another fucking word out of his mouth?  
"I . . . Yeah Lambert I know." She let out a chuckle that was a little nervous but in no way upset, mostly confused. "We went over this already . . . This morning remember? Even round abou-"  
"No! There ain't no even for that, shouldn't have said that. . . Never . . . What they did to you wasn't . . . They. . . " His fists balled up again but he found himself crouched level with her, his face close, likely too close. "You didn't fuck them they . . . Used you and I'm going to kill every last one of em."  
"Oh." Fucking oh, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? His eyes were blown wide with rage that had not outlet. "No you're not." She was still playing with that toy, side to side, the clumpy ball just rose and fell.  
"Will. Fucking-" Maybe she thought this was another false promise, it fucking wasn't. She didn't have to believe him, hear him, didn't matter, he'd do it regardless if she ever looked at him again.  
"What'll that do? Take away the scars? Make me forget?" She sounded a little angry, but not enough, she should be livid, _he_ was livid.  
"Hit me." Too fast, first thought best thought though, she should hurt him, or atleast try. "Do something!" Did she still have his dagger lying around?  
"That won't fix anything Berty." She shot him down convincingly maybe sensing the blood sport he was imaging and having no taste for it.  
"What will fix it? What . . ." He would do almost anything to repent for those cruel words.  
"Can . . . Make it up to me." So there was no fixing it, fair, time travel was beyond a witcher's arsenal.  
"How?"  
"First . . . Breathe." The bagged rain stopped. "Slow." Which was fucking hard, hurt a little.  
"Fine." It was a snarl which was not an apology but it fucking hurt, tore, he hurt because he wanted to put effort into amends and she was making him still. It'd be easier to slow with her hand in his hair but the bagged rain started up again and Lambert let out a breath, he didn't want easy, didn't deserve easy. "How?" He had sat down, just looking at her for some answer, some goal.  
"You didn't mean anything said during your heat." There was no question there but the silence was painful, some sharp ring in his ears.  
"Didn't."  
"Do you know . . . When it happened? When it hit?"  
"Exactly?" He tried to think, this _was_ a question, this was something he could do. "Head was getting hot when I . . ."  
"We did have some half decent sex before you stormed out." She still had half a smile and that was confusing as fuck.  
 _'Half decent.'_ It had been warm, so fucking warm, right, it had been sex that felt right. He hadn't recognized it fully before but it was sex that hadn't left him either flailing or famished, it had been just right, just for him. "After you-" His palm went to his cheek, remembering her hand smearing spend cross his cheek. "Was good . . . Should have been enough, wasn't." He sounded like those numbskull trolls but his head was fighting remembering what he had said and was pushing his brain with brute force to get anywhere but there.  
"Heat." She nodded like she was studying his words for a thesis.  
"How do I make up for it?" She wasn't asking him to fuck her, he had an ego but it wasn't that large.  
"Did you mean what you said . . . Before your heat?" No thesis, no smile, no bagged rain. The right answer to this question was the start to making it up to her.  
"The fuck did I say?" He didn't deserve it but he almost hoped she'd have the mercy to spit it out, not pussy foot around how he'd fucked up even before his heat had started.  
"You need to borrow Delcot to get to Lettenhove?"  
"Well-" Lambert was expecting any other manner of words to come out of her mouth, not that. "Doubt Eskel's goat will carry me there." Her face didn't change, it didn't grow dim, didn't grow anything just fucking held. Maybe she wanted to know why they were going to Lettenhove? "Know it seems like . . . Not our people. Isn't, that's the fucking point. Well we let Dandelion think it's so he can pamper us before really being out and out on the path but if we can handle the pond scum his father associates with, alderman and townsfolk are easy. Gets us adjusted to how weird humans are. Offense meant." He paused seeing if she would laugh, Malo loved to laugh. . . . Fucking nothing her face remained the same. "What? Say something?!" This was not making it up to her.  
"And what?! Bring Delcot all the way back? Lettenhove isn't the closest Lambert."  
"What? No, I ain't traveling all the way there to travel all the way the fuck back. Don't want to see this hunk of stone till long after the leaves-" It hit him what exactly she was asking him, for once not fast enough.  
"So I have to wait till the ass end of fall to get my horse back? He is _my_ fucking horse you know? So you want to _have_ Delcot-"  
"People are trash but they got vegetables six ways Marshmalo." He hadn't earned that back but he couldn't help himself. "Eskel will ask girls to dance when he's good and pickled but you might be able to convince him to try out all those steps you taught him sober if you ask real nice." Too fast, he hadn't gotten an answer last time, and after what he said, once spring came maybe she'd need a whole year to build her patience back up, maybe there was no back up. He felt his chest start to pluck and ache. _'Fuck.'_ Maybe she hated him and she was just playing nice till she wasn't stuck, maybe she _should_ hate him. "If you don't want to go you don't gotta . . . Can ride bitch on Eskel's horse till we get there. Have a horse for the year after a job or two . . . Thats the plan." Lambert planned very little, this was an amazing amount of foresight. "I'll . . . Fucking tell me to leave you alone and-" Firm grab right in his hair. There was no heat, hardly any lust but still that got a pleased somewhat relieved groan out of Lambert, he felt himself lean into it slightly. "Malo?" His eyes were unbecoming, pleading, asking for her not to take it away from him again, for this not to be a cruel joke. He'd leave her alone if she asked but she hadn't just yet. _'Do something dipshit.'_ Yet he just looked at her, so fucking confused, why was she giving him anything let alone that? Maybe she didn't know what it meant to him. What hope it was giving him. She could leave in spring, he could wait for winter to see her but he wanted this hold, wanted to feel special, wanted, right. He'd almost died getting to Kaer Morhrn this year. If this was waiting for him he'd fly in on a fucking Griffin. He was splitting at the seams. A mistake, a monster a mess, yet she was holding him like she wanted to keep him there. He wanted redemption, a second chance, what witcher ever got one let alone both? "Malo?" It sounded less like her name, more like a word Lambert had tossed from his lexicon ages ago, more like please.  
"I will _give_ you Delcot, if you promise to treat him well." Which was fine, which was good, more than he deserved but Lambert was selfish for more, always grabbed with both fucking fists. He sneered something ugly for a long minute as he battled over whether or not to press his nonexistant luck. "What else do you _want_ Berty?!" Her eyes looked like his, well not slitted and demonic, human and green as they'd always been but pleading.  
"You?" It slipped past the sneer. "Want you to go with us? Ain't . . . Know you don't like orders, isn't one . . . " It was the most open ended offer he could possibly give her.  
"Not _just_ for my horse?"  
"Fuck-" No need to degrade Delcot, he'd been a sport he really had. "Not stuck . . . Cause you'd like to?" She did, for some batty reason she wanted to and she was making him painstakingly spell it out for her. "I want you to fucking come with me to Dandelion's stupid party is that what you want to hear?!" He waited for her to explain he was a simple minded sod who had misunderstood her patience, his hope was misguided. She would give him her horse in exchange not to see his face ever again, have him hurt her again. He'd been waiting all winter, this was when the other shoe dropped.  
"Yes, that is what I very badly wanted to hear Berty. I'm . . . Insecure alright? Need to hear I'm liked for me . . . More than a grown independent woman probably should need. I don't find myself very likeable so . . . I . . ." She wasn't scared angry, just angry. Lambert knew that look, she felt weak for needing reassurance for wanting validation.  
"Wanted for shit reasons I get it." He was only wanted for the mutated bits of him, for his blade, for his ability to kill without tossing his lunch, buckling his knees. She had been wanted as a pound of flesh to pound and thrash. "If it makes you happy Malo just shout and I'll say it, many times as you need . . . Till I'm fucking horse. You're batty but I like you."  
"Like your voice Berty, shouldn't have to go horse just-"  
"Let go." He shook his head a bit to get that grip off of him. She'd held him upright long enough, it was time to get even. "Can I touch you?"  
"I . . . Promise again?" She was scared, she was scared of him and that fucking stung.  
"Don't want to punish you. Ain't anybody going to hurt you here-" His way of saying it was over, they survived. "Fucking promise Malo."  
"Slow?" Still scared but fucking patient for him. "Not too-"  
"Yes or no Malo?" Wanting to make things up to her did not scrub his impatience.  
"Yes." He sat up on her bed. Slow, he made all his moves slow so she could see them coming. Hands on face, but there was no blush there, nowhere to rest his fucking thumbs. He took one hand away, let the other guide his arm round her neck, pull her into his chest.  
"Safe. Keep you fucking safe Malo." She was tense. Slow, he placed his chin ontop of her head and she eased a bit, special, she was special, wanted, he'd protect her from the monsters because she deserved protection, care, slow. "Malo?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Your home's pretty fucking empty."  
"I know. Way I like it, cold and alone."  
"Think you could . . . Like here better? Here can be home . . . Really fucking can."  
"I'm not living here with Vesemir while you globe trot Lambert."  
"Just fucking got done saying I like you Marshmalo wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." They both chuckled. "Meant during winter, when here's . . . Got us in it. Just . . . Try it out?" Those words sounded familiar but they were generic as anything so he didn't try to place them anywhere.  
"What?"  
"Always get mad . . . Don't believe us when we say it. Home. This is your room in your fucking home Marshmalo. Say it?"  
"My room." She was twitching with tears that would never fall and he tried so fucking hard to be soft. He remembered his mother kissing the top of his head when he was upset when he was shaking angry, too angry for such a small child. "My home." She squeaked out.  
"See wasn't so fucking hard was it?" Soft, carefully fucking soft he laid a punch into her shoulder.  
"Shut the fuck up you asshole." Teasing and cursing, that had Lambert grinning ear to ear. He leaned away for a moment.  
"Can I touch you?"  
"Already touching me Berty." Her eyes went to his arm still drapped around her neck.  
"I'm . . . Back . . . Me again. I really am fucking sorry . . . I . . . You believe me? Don't want to be a fucking monster not to you Malo-"  
"Even in your heat Berty . . . You didn't kiss like a monster, wasn't ugly, wasn't mean, that staid, part of you was . . . You, knew everything else was just-"  
"Kiss you like this Marshmalo?" He'd already asked for permission twice over he didn't go for a third. That nice even kiss, not too wild and crushing, not lips just on lips, something strong with spine but . . . Lambert didn’t love her but this kiss was loving. That was close, that was close enough. He pulled back again he hadn't asked that question for his fucking health. However he had kissed her that kept her faith that he was despite all other words and actions an asshole not a monster he wanted to know exactly what it was, always have it for her.  
"Too fucking fast. Think I might've missed it Berty."  
"Fucking helpless." He rolled his eyes and she finally fucking remembered how hilarious he was, finally laughed. "Show you again. Slooower." He could do it on command, slow the fuck down, he kissed her a second time, slow.  
"We did promise Elk-"  
"Fucking fine." Lambert stood up and held out his hand but she got up on her on and that somewhat puzzled him but he'd been pushing that luck as hard as he could, it was time to give it a rest.

"It's not stupid. Take it back." Was how they were greated upon re-entering the room.  
"Huh?" Lambert took two steps back.  
"You're not exactly quiet Lambert." Geralt cleared up any confusion.  
"Party is fucking stupid. People are trash but plenty of booze." Lambert did not take it back, did not apologize. The bard's glare was hot and pointed and keeping Lambert from getting in his own fucking nest. "Scept you alright? People at the party are trash scept you. Now can I come in?"  
"I suppose." The bard stood and walked up to Lambert, arms crossed something sour.  
"What?" Lambert's face was promptly grabbed and Jaskier leaned up and licked right up his ear, an act well known to rile Lambert in all the wrong ways. "Off!" He shoved, sneered but he still didn't kick the bard out.  
"Isn't . . . This part better Lambert. . . The after part? Don't you feel a bit better? Little lighter?" Jaskier was genuinely curious, Geralt bothered to push himself up on his elbow, joining in on the interest.  
"The fuck do you want a medal?" Lambert's arms crossed his chest. He hated heats but this wasn't heat, this was after, this _was_ better. His brothers were . . . Witchers didn't hold smiles but they didn't seem miserable . . . Usually they were miserable and it was all his fault, they were relaxed, fuck they were lounging the whole day away, maybe they were even happy. Could he take credit for that too? Didn't matter if he could, he already was.

"Better?" Eskel asked as Malo entered the room. "Lambert fix your head?" He looked concerned a bit fidgety, any amount of fidget was a lot when it came to Eskel. Lambert wasn’t sure how to categorize Eskel and Malo's relationship. He had come to peace with the fact that there were things Eskel did or said that were simply beyond him but maybe he felt left out maybe wanted to try? He factored it up to jealousy and a respectable level of anger.  
"Head's good." She sat behind Eskel, her fingers were at his back, this didn't seem like a tickle, maybe a scratch, drawing patterns?  
"Like you and Jaskier." Geralt saw the worry on his brother's face. "Make sense to each other in a way that . . . Doesn't make sense to us."  
"Huh?" Lambert was sitting infront of Eskel eyes cocked to the side.  
"Geralt has no whimsy." Jaskier had his arms drapped over Lambert's shoulders.  
"That's me. Captin fucking whimsy." Lambert could feel Jaskier moving his face and he stuck out his palm, smacking it into the bard's mug, blocking a second lick.  
"You let me joke around." Block was the wrong word, diverted, Lambert felt his hand grow moist. "Get my extra energy out." Lambert groaned a bit annoyed and gave another push.  
"Geralt doesn't let you joke? How have you not burst into flames? Restraint ain't your thing Dandelion" Lambert was studying Malo's movements, he'd let her draw patterns on his back if she wanted. There were very few things he could think of if she started with 'It'd make me happy if-' That he wouldn't allow her. Though imagining hands moving without purpose long his back seemed kind of stupid when he thought about it. _'Just like holding hands.'_  
"There's no stoping Jaskier when he's . . . In a mood." Geralt had inched over to the group, finally finding it worthwhile to sit up. "He finds it . . . Fun. I-"  
"He just turns to stone and let's me roll around like an idiot." Jaskier was rubbing his scent into Lambert.  
"Like I'm doing?" Lambert rolled his eyes but did move his neck to give the bard a better angel. This made sense, scenting calmed, just did, had a purpose, was Jaskier doing it with flair? Yes but it still got the job done and it was sometimes fun scenting back, or wrestling around a bit. Lambert always won, it felt good to win.  
"You talk! Respond . . . If you're in a good mood you'll play along. Geralt doesn't find it fun and that's ok, I still play around with him plenty."  
"Plenty." Geralt nodded but his eyes looked different, looked focused, looked amused, drifting from face to face of the group, it went from amused to proud, to some looping mix of the two.  
"Sometimes it's just nice with someone you know enjoys it. You do like it right?" At the begining of winter Lambert would have said no, that it was too much, probably have the same outlook as Geralt, too silly and over the top, too gently affectionate. Yet at the beginning of winter Lambert was so angry everything was too much, he had no room. He was still angry, he was angry right now, that this was so fucking weird, complicated. Something wasn't right but he wasn't sure what. Though Geralt was making a bit of sense, Lambert and Jaskier while not exactly like minded, they both were omegas, understood each other's moves and motives in a way Geralt and Eskel just couldn't.  
"Doesn't bother you?" Lambert didn’t move all too much, his neck craning further still as Jaskier swallowed his personal space. "Only turns so fucking far Dandelion." He did eventually catch Geralt's eyes, silently asking the question again. If Geralt the blueprint of protective alphas could be ok with Jaskier and Lambert, then he could . . . Eventually cool on the idea of Eskel and Malo making sense to each other, wouldn't happen overnight but . . . He would work at it. He just needed to know it was something that . . . Wouldn't cost him, have him lose. Geralt would never jeopardize losing Jaskier, would change, would be anything for his bard, yet he allowed Jaskier to seek out Lambert for silliness because Lambert was fucking hilarious, and bendy. Lambert would . . . Touch pointlessly for Malo but . . . Eskel found real sport in it, was better.  
"No." It was more than no though, it was better than no, Geralt sounded . . . Encouraging, well as encouraging as no could sound. He liked watching Jaskier and Lambert it did something for him, Geralt wasn't hard just . . . Happy. "Want . . . Jaskier to have everything. Want you . . . Happy too." And that made perfect sense. Malo deserved pointless touches that girls like and if Eskel was best at it, he wanted her to have the best. He wanted Eskel to be happy and this . . . Made him happy, this wasn't a mistake, Lambert wasn't losing only gaining, only doing better for his fucking pack. Yet something still nagged.  
"Hey . . . Eskel?" Lambert was full of questions, this was all so new, this closeness this . . . Not lonely feeling.  
"Yeah?" Eskel's eyes were closed but he did raise an eyebrow in answer.  
"What's it . . . Feel like?" That's what was wrong, different. Geralt knew he didn't get anything out of Jaskier's . . . Horsing around. Lambert didn’t know if he'd like the feeling of fingers on his back.  
"Creep up." Eskel patted the spot directly in front of him. Lambert looked up at Malo for . . . Something.  
"Did promise Lambert." He fucking had, he'd offered to spoon Eskel, which he didn't need to test to know he wouldn't like, he hated being the small spoon, this was a compromise he could deal with.  
"Fine." Lambert started moving Jaskier's limbs off of him.  
"Don't you dare discard me like yesterday's news. I want to be a part of this chain."  
"Course you fucking do, want to be a part of everything." Great a group exercise but as angry as it made Lambert it wasn't white hot, it remained a warm simmer, closer maybe to cranky than angry, or that happy angry he had trademarked for himself, that was it. "Fine." He had his back lined up to Eskel and Jaskier was already leaning back dramatically into Lambert's hands as they rose. It was . . . Fine, well maybe a little less than fine, Eskel's fingers didn't hurt by any stretch if anything it was too light, Lambert couldn't shake the feeling that there was some bug crawling up his shoulder.  
"Not a fan Berty?" Malo could see this mild discomfort rise in him, Lambert was not subtle in his reactions.  
"Ain't . . . Bad." It wasn't, just wasn't something he was enjoying. Not the way Eskel had melted into it, his brother was letting out happy sighs not all too dissimilar to Malo's. "Stop fucking squirming you lunatic!" Not the way Jaskier was giggling and rocking into his touch, Lambert had to paw and squeeze to keep him in place, his touch was not feather soft like Eskel's but Jaskier didn't seem to notice or care, which who the fuck knew? Not bad, it just felt a little bit like bugs. _'Maybe if it was Malo?'_ He closed his eyes and really focused on the touch, imagining it was Malo's hands and that was better, not great but . . . Good. "Make you happy?"  
"It's . . . Like Jaskier said . . . Extra energy. What do you do when you got extra energy Berty?" The short answer was that didn't happen often, he normally preserved his energy, as fast as he was he wasn't endurance he was sprints and spurts. On the path he had to keep from over exerting, had to be smart with his speed his energy. Winter though, winter was different, he did build and have to release in someway, early winter he could do laps round the courtyard, then the snow took that away from him.  
"Spar." Which . . . Just like how three pairs of socks were Malo's armor maybe this was her sparring. Touches were still hard on Malo, maybe touches that didn't have a real purpose, didn't have to lead anywhere got her prepared, had her feeling safe and ready for those that did. He could do that for her. It still felt mostly like bugs but once he noticed there was a pattern to it that helped slightly. "That the alphabet?"  
"Huh?" Eskel sounded a bit floaty, maybe moderately bothered to be taken out of the float to be quizzed.  
"Show off." Malo wasn't floating, she was fucking grinning bested.  
"Don't fucking encourage it if you don't like it Marshmalo." Each passing minute he felt a bit better, his thoughts less on bugs and more on Malo's lips. _'Does like it. Likes me.'_  
"Oooh it's like whisper down the lane. Geralt sit in the front let's see if you can guess what Malo's drawing." Jaskier was eager for a game. Geralt did move, sat right in front of Jaskier, that same subtle happy look on his face.  
"No." That same encouraging no.  
"Are you still weird about me touching your back. No one is going to stab you."  
"Can't be sure." Geralt spoke as a man who knew what he did and did not like. Geralt didn't need to test the waters as Lambert was. He trusted Jaskier infadicly but some lessons just stuck, couldn't shake, Lambert knew it wasn't Geralt's back he was worried about, it was his neck. They had all been drilled, fucking spooked, threatened and lashed out at for allowing that weakness, a bare neck was a beaten witcher. Eskel had his signs, Lambert his speed, Geralt fought close, fought long, he had kept that lesson closer to his chest than the others. Even the white wolf had hang ups, Kaer Morhen had fucked them all up uniquely. "Like looking." Geralt wasn't lingering on what he wouldn't do, speaking instead on what he would partake in, he did sound mighty fucking pleased.  
"Well what am I supposed to do with my hands?" Jaskier gave a bit of a whine.  
"You could-" it was a trick question, Jaskier already was playing fully with Geralt's hair. "Hmm." Geralt was good and gone.  
"And no one's touching Malo." Jaskier said it as a statement but sounded like he was checking in, ever the thoughtful companion, still trying to convince her that omegas did care about alphas, didn't just chew them up and spit them out.  
"Cold and alone just how I like it." Malo didn't like laying on her back, she likely didn't want mystery fingers dancing on it. It was a day after like no other. It always hurt but Lambert never mended like this, never felt so . . . Accepted, wanted, he always felt like his heat was him stepping one foot out the door. He was always first, always fast, his winter always ended abruptly before the others, not this year, this winter was moving slow.  
"A snow man?" Jaskier guessed the image, playing the game no one had asked for.  
"Nope. It was a dick." Everyone laughed, everyone was fucking happy. Too bad winter was coming to a close soon.

A week passed more or less uneventful. Lambert got his fucking room back after the day of meding which he was thankful for. He was a bit surprised and maybe a bit disapointed that even Malo went back to her previous sleeping arrangement but he would have to get used to that. There would be no nests on the path, there'd be no Malo either. He tried not to linger on that thought. "Whatcha writing?" She was laying out on her stomach on the greenhouse bench, staring at a nearly blank piece of parchment.  
"Letter." She looked up at him for a moment, it was a face he was getting used to, not fucking dim, relaxed, happy, home. It caused a feeling he was getting used to good angry, it was good, fucking warm from fingers to toes, angry because he knew this feeling wouldn't last.  
 _'Gonna miss that fucking face.'_ It was moments like this that her rule was fucking hard, his fingers twitched to pull her up by the hair, kiss her till he was sure he wouldn't forget what mint tasted like. "To who?" He knew to who but he asked anyway.  
"Amadis." The man who she used to live with, that funded her home in the blue mountains.  
"He . . . Still keeping tabs? Nosy fucker." He didn't care, or rather couldn't care. Someone had to look after Malo while he was out on the path didn't they? Could be worse than a man miles and mountains away, just letters, an idiot with shit taste, deep pockets and a quill, he wasn't a threat right?  
"He's worried."  
"Bout me?" Her earlier letter to that man had referenced Lambert personally, that's why this man wasn't a threat.  
"Yes." Maybe he should have been worried but Lambert just got a smug grin. Amadis was a well pocketed idiot but not so dumb to try to take Malo from the jaws of a witcher was he?  
"Worried I'll eat you?" Lambert sat down in front of her. "Could." He had a full grin. He liked the idea, liked the action, Malo hated being on her back but Lambert was well and good with his mouth could get her happy and safe there, she always looked such a mess, so bested, there was nothing to complain about when it came to that. "Tonight?" It was another perfect Lambert plan. He'd have her so pleased she be too tuckered out to go back to her bed, he'd make her legs jelly. He didn't need her to cuddle up with him, he'd just like her to stay, he'd have plenty of time to miss her. He always spoke before thinking though, should have worded it more as something . . . Romantic, not like he was ordering a whore at a brothel. Malo laughed though, she wasn't easily offended.  
"What?" He liked when she laughed at him even if he had long given up pretending it was enirely on purpose.  
"You're easily distracted Berty." She sat up, squinting at the page. "But yes . . . We can . . . Tonight." That worked for his plan even better, meant she'd be twice as tired, twice as pleased, twice as likely to stay the night. That and the obvious, it worked out well for Lambert because Malo's mouth was wonderful, resting his cock in the back of her throat never got fucking old. He felt his spine straighten as the thought. What time was it? Not even supper.  
 _'Fuck.'_ Only thing ruining the sensation was her eyes weren't on him, she was re-reading one of the letters she had received via crow over the weeks. "What the fuck does he want?" He glossed over the page. _'Happy for you. . .'_ In his mind he mimicked some posh Toussaint accent braying and blahing. His face must've read as such cause Malo laughed again. _'Don't get tricked.'_ Big words followed just to prove how fucking smart he was. ' _May just be a rumor.'_ Well this wasn't going to end well for Lambert, Witcher rumors were never kind. ' _Unsuspecting Alphas.'_ Lambert glanced up at Malo, she blinked back at him, knowing he'd gotten to the meat of it. _'Drain their blood._ ' The smell of mint and blood hit him and he got angrier. _'Don't drink it.'_ Oh how kind, hadn't confused him with a vampire. _'Coat their silver, blades, bolts, necklaces.'_ Lambert audibly bawked. "Ain't a fucking necklace."  
"That's where you take offense? Is that where the discrepancy lies?" Malo teased, she hadn't bought into the hysteria, she wasn't afraid he'd drip her dry and use her blood for blade oil. "Oil's meant to protect from blood . . . Keep it from eating at-" Lambert paused, maybe he was going at it a bit too practicaly cause Malo was giving him somewhat of a scolding look. "Even if I did use alpha blood, wouldn't use yours Malo."  
"How kind of you." She rolled her eyes, but the scold was gone.  
"No one fucking would." Maybe the memory of the smell was too vivid because he found himself getting angrier than he had in days. He glued his eyes back to the page. ' _Understand that you're lonely.'_ Angrier still. ' _Perhaps the choice was rash.'_ What choice? Her choice to leave? To come here? _'Milva misses you. Not as much as I do.'_ Rage was building, did this fucker want his mate and Malo as well. _'Not as much as Icori.'_ Who in the fuck was that? "Icori?" Easiest way to get an answer, ask.  
"Their daughter." Malo was finally seated up, likely willed to move by how angry Lambert looked.  
 _'Whatever you do.'_ Sounded like an order, a command, Malo hated those. Amadis didn't own her, she didn't have to do shit. _'Do not travel with this Lambert character.'_ Character? Was he a fucking joke to this absoulte fool? _'Will sacrifice you to save itself.'_  
"You're not an it Berty. He's a decent man just trusts fables a bit more-" She was standing peeling the top of the page that was held clenched fisted inches from Lambert's snarl.  
"Don't give a fuck bout that." Lambert gave a bit of a shooing motion as he read on. He should have been angry at being called it but that was such old news he had barely noticed. He was furious at the word sacrifice like he would let anything happen to Malo. "Wouldn't ever."  
"Care about Amadis' opinion? Yeah I figured as-"  
"If it's tween you and me Malo . . . Our way to Lettenhove, I'll protect you." He held her eyes for a moment. "You'll let me right?" She wasn't one of those bleeding heart humans was she? Wouldn't run into danger trying to keep an omega safe?  
"I am but a helpless human Berty. There are very few things short of blue balls and starvation I could protect you from." He didn't like that answer, it was more or less what he asked for but he didn't like it, so he ignored it and went back to the page, the fuck was this? A novella?  
 _'If the loneliness gets too much to bare.'_ Spring to winter was a long time. Would she get lonely? ' _We didn't changed the locks.'_ For a moment he read words that weren't there, made up images in his mind, saw iron, saw bars, saw a cage. Then he shook his head, hadn't changed the locks meant she had a key, why would she have keys to her own cage. "Will you?" He crumpled up the paper because there was no more use for it. What was she going to do fucking frame it. "Go back to him?"  
"Probably not." Probably was an annoying wishy washy word, that's why it made him angry. Not because probably meant possibly. She could go wherever she wanted, be with whoever she pleased, so long as she came back for winter. "I came here because I wanted not to touch others, didn't want to be touched . . . Want changed, didn't dissappear." He let out a breath he hadn't been holding.  
"Don't . . . Belong to me . . . Just . . . Wait did Amadis touch you when you didn't want to be touched?" That changed fucking everything, made him a monster despite her promising otherwise.  
"No . . . But he wanted to . . . Made it awkward for all of us . . . Think I outgrew my . . ." Her eyes grew a bit sad for a second. "That was home . . . First place that was home . . . Treated me better than. . . And I couldn't . . . Be satisfied."  
"Cause you knew there was something better out there. Us. You got a better home, families are a crown a dozen. How many people you know gotta pack?"  
"Lambert I'm not a part of your pack. You all barely know me. I have a room here, a-" For a moment he stared at her neck, he wanted to bite, wanted to mark her, show her, she had a place here. She clearly hadn't understood what the word home meant, wasn't just walls. He wouldn't let her out grow him, he'd stretch himself fucking taller to avoid that.  
"Know you're good for us. Kinda fucking funny." He didn't want to act before thinking, before speaking this time.  
"You do know funny." She was confused but patient.  
"Like being cold and alone, made us warm and . . . Close. Eskel never told us he . . . Wanted fucking fluff, he told you, now we can give it to him . . . Though wolves got heavy hands, thinks he likes yours better-"  
"Lambert the reason-"  
"Let me fucking finish. Gave Jaskier that . . . Human bit he didn't get any other fucking winter, know stuff like waltzes."  
"Can't help being human."  
"It can be helped." Lambert sneered for a brief moment but got back to it. "Helped Geralt and I get through my heat. He isn't sulking round the keep feeling like he could've done better." He saw her mouth open to interrupt, Lambert wasn't fucking stupid he knew what she was trying to get out. Things like that were just matters of practice to her, she had spent years appeasing monsters, the wolves were easy by comparison. "Did it feel like that though? Like the port?"  
"No . . . Never."  
"Then stop brining it the fuck up!" He got loud on purpose, he knew she wanted to get angry and he could give that to her, angry felt fucking better with someone.  
"Won't let me get a word out edgewise!" Her voice rose. "Stop telling me to forget!"  
"Fine! Don't forget, just don't waste your fucking time remembering! We're fucking better! We win! Think of us not them!" That phrase had won him her nickname, would it win her thoughts? "Can't help it all the time I get it, when you can . . . Us . . . Your pack Malo. If you think of us first . . . Your pack will always protect you." Her lips twisted best in a different way, in a lingering way, he was fucking convincing her. "Me and Vesemir-"  
"You cannot try to tell me I've made that better. You've been at each other's throats all-"  
"You gotta get close to be at each other's throat. I ain't ever going to forgive the old man . . . You got me . . . Talking to-"  
"Shouting at him." Malo corrected.  
"Best the fucker's going to get." Lambert would always hate Vesemir, but he also . . . Listened to him, fucking cared in a passing sort of way about the bullshit he was spewing, it was . . . More than nothing, more than the harsh silence they'd held every winter since . . . Lambert couldn't remember when he'd last given the old wolf the time of day. "Fucking selfish Malo, what matters most, what I care about most?"  
"What I do for you?"  
"What you fucking gave me . . . Gave me my pack Malo. How you made me feel . . ." He didn't want to open himself up fully so he gave just what he'd already admitted to. "Less fucking angry . . . Like I was . . . Ok . . . Made sense. Want to be fucking even, want to give you that."  
"Well fuck." Malo's fingers wove in his hair, gripped him hard, pulled his face towards hers.  
"Tonight somewhere." He growled into her lips.  
"Is it?" Her hand slid down the front of his trousers.  
"Uh huh." His palms found their place under her thighs, lifting her, he liked holding her, she couldn't run if he was holding her.  
"Shame to waste anytime then?"  
"Fucking shame!" Lambert kicked the green house door, his hand cast back and those letters caught fire.  
"Lambert!"  
"Fucking shame." He carried her right through the main hall, while slowing he didn't stop kissing, nipping, right infront of the table holding his brothers he let a lick slide up where his mark should be.  
"Traveling in style Malo?" Jaskier waved at Malo and while she flinched instead of her eyes filling with fright or flight, any embarrassment for being bawdy and open with affection she simply laughed, she waved back. This was almost as comfortable as she would get.

"Lambert!" _This_ was the most comfortable she'd be under his mouth, his tounge, till spring if he kept at it. "Lambert you-" There was a hearty pinch at her thigh. "Bite too much!"  
"Think you like it Malo." He planted a match to her other, smirking as her knees jerked towards one another. "Get all fucking red." He wanted to show her, leaving one right where leg met hip, that not all bites hurt, well the did, they were fucking teeth, but he wanted to show her that his teeth could be pleasurable.  
"Shit. Berty please." Her hips rose, missing him, chasing him, wanting him.  
"Starting fucking cursing for me." One at her stomach, her hands fisted in his hair and he groaned right into her skin. He peered up at her for a moment, she was looking at him, focused, anticipating. She knew another was coming but where? She was trying to brace for the bite. Instead he changed his tactics, not biting but instead he took a nipple into his mouth and started sucking, though it wasn't slow and gentle, it was fast and a bit brutal, could leave a bruise on sensitive flesh. "Ahhh!" That was a new sound a fucking fantastic sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "Can, you can Berty. Will you Berty?"  
"Hm?" He was plenty happy with his task at hand but he was greedy if there was more on the table he would take it.  
"Bite." He groaned again, this was dangerous, his bites were getting heavier heartier as they got closer to where he wanted to be. He bit and she gasped, her body tightened up, did he smell salted water?  
"Shit I-" Had he bitten too hard? Humans were soft and breakable and he was rough and reckless. "Malo I didn't mean-"  
"Good. Like it Berty." He did enjoy symmetry went for the other, he tugged slighlty. "Fuck. love it Berty." Foreplay was for the patient, not for fucking him, he turned them, Malo straddling his hips. He had to get some distance from his mouth and her throat. "Got the legs for it Malo? Mighty shaky earlier."  
"Your fault." Legs like jam just as he wanted but perhaps that plan had worked too well.  
"Means I gotta do all the hard work Marshmalo?" He tried to sneer but it didn't stick.  
"Think you like it Berty." She pulled his hands up to her hips, he grabbed too hard, too fucking eager, would leave marks but she gave a happy little moan. "Think you and your wonderful hips were built for it" He pulled her into him, rushed up to meet her. Built for something other than monster guts, Malo really was batty. He liked the bested, almost surprised, maybe impressed look on her face. For that look, that pleased fucking look, he could be less lazy for that. Faster, deeper. He was watching her back arch, giving him all her weight and pressure, holding him to the fucking floor, that was his favorite part when she rewarded him for fast and angry, made him slow.  
""Like it." He did, simmered, let himself breathe. "Malo." He did tell her he wouldn't fucking ask, so he didn't, just got fucking gone, took her with him.

"Can . . . Gotta take it down next week. Shit's gonna need a good wash." It was a fact stated proudly. "Stay why the stayings good Marshmalo." His eyes were closed but he could hear her collecting all the shirts. He started mapping his counter argument for whatever mopy bullshit Malo had planned.  
"Lambert can I touch you?" When and why she asked didn't quite make sense to Lambert but it made sense to Malo and that's all that mattered. He dramatically threw his arms back then tucked them under his head.  
"Knock yourself out." He was a bit surprised when her face went to his shoulder.  
"This . . . Ok? I know touching just to-"  
"Like sleeping with you and I like sleeping _with_ you Marshmalo." He joked and she laughed.  
"We leave for Lettenhove soon?" She yawned into his skin and it almost tickled.  
"Yup."  
"Isn't close."  
"Isn't."  
"All for a party?"  
"Do a lot of dumb shit for those idiots."  
"Hey don't call my pack mates idiots." She bit into his muscle, her teeth sunk, held, his eyes opened, looked down, caught hers, she was asking, well she wasn't saying shit but she wanted something . . . Maybe she was showing him, her teeth weren't bad, did not want to claim just have, just hold.  
"Witchers don't blush, doubt your helpless hum- Fuck." Did fucking hurt, he looked at it as she pulled away. Wasn't a proper mark, would fade before the snow melted but it was . . . Something. "Fuck." He ran his fingers over it and he felt something inside twist like blown glass, his outside must've twisted too.  
"Berty it wasn't-" She was quick to kiss at the little crescents.  
"Shut the fuck up." He didn't want her to take it back. "Ain't anything." It was everything, it was off kilter, crooked and had no real purpose, it was perfect. He wanted it more, wanted to give it back, to be even, symmetrical but there were only two reasons you marked someone, you were a monster who maimed or a mate who loved and Lambert didn’t know which he was closer too _'Fuck.'_

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first A/B/O style fic so any and all things that don't make sense I fully accept acknowledge and will likely casulaly overlook if it works to my narrative.


End file.
